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UNIVERSITY   OF   CALIFORNIA 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/childlifeinliterOOmcdorich 


CHILD    LIFE 

IN   LITERATURE 

A  FOURTH  READER 

BY 

ETTA   AUSTIN   BLAISDELL 

AND 

MARY   FRANCES   BLAISDELL 

AUTHORS   OF    "  CHILD   LIFE,"    "  CHILD   LIFE   IN   TALE  AND 
FABLE,"   AND   "CHILD  LIFE   IN    MANY  LANDS" 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 

1908 

All  rights  refierved 


jf.-t-Xm*: 


COPTEIGHT,   1900, 

Bt  the  macmillan  company. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  May,  1900.      Reprinted  Apifl, 
1901  ;  April,  1902;  April,  1903;  May,  1904;  September,  1905 
January,  November,  1906  ;  April,  1908. 


J\S  Ui 


PREFACE 

This  book,  the  fourth  of  the  Child  Life  Series,  has 
been  compiled  for  the  purpose  of  giving  children  material 
from  the  best  available  literature,  and  through  this  mate- 
rial aiding  them  to  acquire  a  taste  for  reading  genuinely 
good  books. 

Many  of  these  selections  are  made  from  classic  litera- 
ture ;  all  are  of  recognized  value.  As  the  name  of 
the  book  implies,  the  selections  are  not  made  indiscrimi- 
nately, but  with  the  definite  purpose  of  introducing  the 
animate  child  to  the  child  of  fiction. 

Alice,  Tom,  Gluck,  Cosette,  Aladdin,  Jackanapes,  and 
Tiny  Tim  should  be  as  familiar  to  boys  and  girls  as 
are  their  playmates.  What  better  can  we  do  for  the 
children  than  to  give  them  these  life-long  friends ! 

The  poem  entitled  ^'  Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod,'*  by 
Eugene  Field,  is  used  by  permission  of  and  by  arrange- 
ment with  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


541800 


NOTE   TO    TEACHERS 

As  soon  as  the  children  begin  to  read  with  fluency 
and  understanding  they  begin  to  enjoy  reading.  This 
is  the  time  to  lead  them  to  acquire  a  taste  for  good 
reading,  but  a  carefully  prepared  book  is  of  little  use 
without  the  cooperation  of  the  teacher. 

In  order  to  interest  boys  and  girls  in  the  literature 
from  which  these  selections  are  made,  take  books  from 
the  library  for  them  to  read  and  discuss,  encourage  home 
reading,  and  collect  a  few  books  as  the  beginning  of  a 
school  library.  Are  not  good  books  as  valuable  as  good 
pictures  ? 

Interest  yourself  in  the  books  your  pupils  are  reading, 
suggest  books  for  them  to  read,  ask  them  to  read  aloud 
a  short  selection  from  a  book  they  have  read,  teach  them 
to  find  a  good  selection,  ask  them  to  learn  quotations 
and  short  poems  hy  heart,  teach  them  to  select  quotations 
worth  knowing;  call  attention  to  a  fine  description,  to 
a  thought  well  expressed ;  in  fact,  use  every  opportunity 
for  leading  the  children  to  love  the  true,  the  good,  and 
the  beautiful  in  literature  as  well  as  in  nature  and  art. 

4 


CONTENTS 

PAQl! 

Alice's  Adventures  in  Wonderland  Lewis  Carroll  .     .     .     .     o    «     .     .      9 
I.     The  Mad  Tea-Party. 
II.     The  Dormouse's  Tale. 

Nurse's  Song William  Blake 24 

The  Rainbow William  Wordsworth 25 

Lullaby  of  an  Infant  Chief     .     .     .     Sir  Walter  Scott 26 

The  Snow-Image Nathaniel  Hawthorne 27 

I.     The  Image. 
II.     The  Awakening. 

The  First  Snow-Fail James  Russell  Lowell 43 

At  the  Back  of  the  North  Wind      .  George  Macdonald  ......    46 

I.     The  Better  Land. 
II.     Diamond  goes  home. 

A  Boy's  Wish William  Allingham 59 

Tiny  Tim's  Christmas  Dinner     .     .     Charles  Dickens 61 

The  Little  Lame  Prince      ....     Dinah  Mulock  Craik 68 

L     The  Tower 
IL     The  Flight. 

A  Laughing  Song William  Blake     .     * 83 

Song John  Keats 84 

Jackanapes Juliana  Horatia  Ewing     ....     85 

L     Lollo. 
II.     Jackanapes'  Grandfather. 

Duty Ralph  Waldo  Emerson      ....     97 

Hiawatha's  Childhood Henry  Wadsworth  Longfelloiv    .     .     99 

Rollo  at  Work Jacob  Abbott    ........  103 

Bird  Songs Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  ....  Ill 

6 


^  6  8«- 

PAOB 

Tom,  the  Water-Baby Charles  Kingsley 112 

I.     In  the  River. 
II.     To  the  Sea. 

Casablanca Felicia  D.  Hemans 122 

Gluck's  Visitor John  Ruskin 124 

I.     The  First  Visit. 
II.     The  Second  Visit. 

Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod  .     .     .     Eugene  Field 142 

Christ  and  the  Little  Ones 145 

A  Christmas  Carol 146 

Cosette Victor  Hugo 148 

I.     Cosette  Works. 
II.     Cosette  Plays. 

The  Captain's  Daughter     ....    James  T,  Fields 163 

Maggie  Tulliver George  Eliot 165 

I.    Maggie  runs  away. 
II.     Maggie  goes  home. 

Lorna  Doone  and  John  Ridd  .     .     .     Richard  D.  Blackmore 180 

I.    John  Ridd. 
II.     Lorna  Doone. 

The  Barefoot  Boy John  Greenleaf  Whittier    ....  195 

Alice  through  the  Looking-Glass     .     Lewis  Carroll 197 

I.     Tweedledum  and  Tweedledee. 
IL     The  Battle. 

The  Lamp  of  Aladdin 212 

I.     The  Magician. 
IL     The  Genie. 

The  Story  of  Joseph 225 

Notes 231 

Vocabulary 236 


KEY  TO  PRONUNCIATION 


a 

as  in 

made 

0 

as  in 

old 

a 

u 

rat 

5 

a 

6n 

a 

a 

ask 

6 

u 

love 

a 

a 

far 

0 

u 

move 

a 

a 

ail 

8 

a 

fSr 

a 

u 

care 

0 

a 

parlor 

§ 

u 

above 

u 

as  in 

tise 

e 

as  in 

me 

ii 

u 

cup 

e 

u 

let 

^ 

iC 

full 

e 

u 

her 

e 

cc 

hundred 

00 

as  in  boot 

00 

a 

foot 

i 

as  in 

ride 

1 

u 

pm 

9 

as  in 

miQe 

i 

i( 

fir 

n 

a 

bank 

y 

a 

fly 

g 

a 

cage 

y 

u 

pretty 

2 

a 

eyeg 

CHILD  LIFE  m  U^E^AmM^li 


A  FOURTH   READER 


3>»iC 


ALICE'S  ADVENTURES  IN  WONDERLAND 

I.    THE   MAD   TEA-PARTY 

mush'room  con  ver  sa'tion     in  ter  rupt' 

tin  com 'fort  abl^     Dor'mouse  tre^'cl^ 

cti  n  os'i  ty  dre^d'f  lil  ly  ex  tr^6r'di  na  ry 

,d\  ^'  \  LICE  had  not  gone  far  before  she 
came  in  sight  of  the  house  of  the 
March  Hare.  She  thought  it 
must  be  the  right  house, 
because  the  chimneys 
were  shaped  like  ears  and 
the  roof  was  thatched 
with  fur. 

It  was  so  large  a  house, 
that  she  did  not  like  to 
go  nearer  till  she  had 
nibbled  some  more  of  the 
left-hand   bit  of   mush- 


:-  -  ,  .  V  -  v^  -   >,  -36  10  8«- 

'-   -\->^  -X    \^       *    V    -     -^ 

14  lPCHE)8Si^  ^^  herself  to  about  two  feet  high. 

Even  then  she  walked  up  towards  it  rather  tim- 
idly, saying  to  herself  ''Suppose  it  should  be 
raving  mad  after  all !  I  almost  wish  I'd  gone 
to  see  the  Hatter  instead ! '' 

There  was  a  table  set  out  under  a  tree  in  front 
of  the  house,  and  the  March  Hare  and  the  Hatter 
were  having  tea  at  it.  A  Dormouse  was  sitting 
between  them,  fast  asleep,  and  the  other  two  were 
using  it  as  a  cushion,  resting  their  elbows  on  it, 
and  talking  over  its  head. 

''Very  uncomfortable  for  the  Dormouse,'^ 
thought  Alice ;  "  only  as  it's  asleep,  I  suppose 
it  doesn't  mind." 

The  table  was  a  large  one,  but  the  three  were 
all  crowded  together  at  one  corner  of  it.  "No 
room !  No  room!  "  they  cried  out  when  they  saw 
Alice  coming.  ^^There^s  plenty  of  room!"  said 
Alice,  and  she  sat  down  in  a  large  arm-chair  at 
one  end  of  the  table. 

"Have  some  cake,"  said  the  March  Hare. 

Alice  looked  all  round  the  table,  but  there 
was  nothing  on  it  but  tea.  "I  don't  see  any 
cake,"  she  remarked. 


^  lie«- 


*' There  isn^t  any/^  said  the  March  Hare. 

^'Then  it  wasn't  very  civil  of  you  to  offer  it/' 
said  Alice  angrily. 

''  It  wasn't  very  civil  of  you  to  sit  down  with- 
out being  invited,"  said  the  March  Hare. 

*'I  didn't  know  it  was  your  table,"  said  Alice. 
'*It's  laid  for  a  great  many  more   than   three." 

''Your  hair  wants  cutting,"  said  the  Hatter. 
He  had  been  looking  at  Alice  for  some  time  with 
great  curiosity,  and  this  was  his  first  speech. 

'-You  should  learn  not  to  make  personal  re- 
marks," said  Alice.     ''It's  very  rude." 


-«  12  8«- 

The  Hatter  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  on 
hearing  this;  but  all  he  said  was  *'Why  is  a 
raven  like  a  writing-desk?^' 

''  Come,  we  shall  have  some  fun  now !  '^  thought 
Alice.  ''  I  am  glad  they've  begun  asking  riddles 
—  I  believe  I  can  guess  that/'  she  added 
aloud. 

**Do  you  mean  that  you  think  you  can  find 
out  the  answer  to  it?"  said  the  March  Hare. 

'*  Exactly  so,"  said  Alice. 

^^Then  you  should  say  what  you  mean,"  the 
March  Hare  went  on. 

''I  do,"  Alice  hastily  replied;  '*at  least  —  at 
least  I  mean  what  I  say  —  that's  the  same  thing, 
you  know." 

''  Not  the  same  thing  a  bit !  "  said  the  Hatter. 
*'  Why,  you  might  just  as  well  say  that  '  I  see 
what  I  eat'  is  the  same  thing  as  *I  eat  what  I 
see ' ! " 

"•  You  might  just  as  well  say,"  added  the  March 
Hare,  "  that  ^  I  like  what  I  get '  is  the  same  thing 
as  '  I  get  what  I  like ' !  " 

*^  You  might  just  as  well  say,"  added  the  Dor 
mouse,  which  seemed  to  be  talking  in  its  sleep. 


^  13  8«- 

''  that  'I  breathe  when  I  sleep '  is  the  same  thing 
as  '  I  sleep  when  I  breathe  M  ^' 

''It  is  the  same  thing  with  you,''  said  the 
Hatter,  and  here  the  conversation  dropped,  and 
the  party  sat  silent  for  a  minute,  while  Alice 
thought  over  all  she  could  remember  about 
ravens  and  writing-desks,  which  wasn't  much. 

The  Hatter  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 
''What  day  of  the  month  is  it?  "  he  said,  turning 
to  Alice.  He  had  taken  his  watch  out  of  his 
pocket,  and  was  looking  at  it  uneasily,  shaking 
it  every  now  and  then,  and  holding  it  to  his 
ear. 

Alice  considered  a  little,  and  then  said  "The 
fourth." 

"Two  days  wrong!"  sighed  the  Hatter.  "I 
told  you  butter  wouldn't  suit  the  works !  "  he 
added,  looking  angrily  at  the  March  Hare. 

"It  was  the  best  butter,"  the  March  Hare 
meekly  replied. 

"Yes,  but  some  crumbs  must  have  got  in  as 
well,"  the  Hatter  grumbled.  "You  shouldn't 
have  put  it  in  with  the  bread-knife." 

The  March  Hare  took  the  watch  and  looked  at 


^  14  8«- 

it  gloomily :  then  he  dipped  it  into  his  cup  of 
tea,  and  looked  at  it  again.  He  could  think  of 
nothing  better  to  say  than  his  first  remark,  **  It 
was  the  best  butter,  you  know/' 

Alice  had  been  looking  over  his  shoulder  with 
some  curiosity.  ''  What  a  funny  watch !  '^  she 
remarked.  ''  It  tells  the  day  of  the  month,  and 
doesn't  tell  what  o'clock  it  is !  " 

^^  Why  should  it? "  muttered  the  Hatter.  "  Does 
your  watch  tell  you  what  year  it  is?" 

*'0f  course  not,"  Alice  replied.  *'But  that's 
because  it  stays  the  same  year  for  such  a  long 
time  together." 

*' Which  is  just  the  case  with  mme,"  said  the 
Hatter. 

Alice  felt  very  much  puzzled.  The  Hatter's 
remark  seemed  to  her  to  have  no  sort  of  meaning 
in  it,  and  yet  it  was  certainly  English.  *'  I  don't 
quite  understand  you,"  she  said  politely. 

II.    THE    dormouse's   TALE 

*'The   Dormouse    is    asleep   again,"    said   the 

Hatter,  and  he  poured  a  little  tea  upon  its  nose. 

The  Dormouse  shook  its  head  and  said,  with- 


-«  15  Be- 
out  opening  its  eyes,  "  Of  course,  of  course :  just 
what  I  was  going  to  remark  myself/' 

'^Have  you  guessed  the  riddle  yet?"  the 
Hatter  said,  turning  to  Alice  again. 

''No,  I  give  it  up,''  Alice  replied.  ''What's 
the  answer?" 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  said  the  Hatter. 

"Nor  I,"  said  the  March  Hare. 

Alice  sighed.  "  I  think  you  might  do  some- 
thing better  with  the  time,"  she  said,  "than 
wasting  it  in  asking  riddles  that  have  no 
answers." 

"  If  you  knew  Time  as  well  as  I  do,"  said  the 
Hatter,  "you  wouldn't  talk  about  wasting  it 
It's  Mm:' 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Alice. 

"Of  course  you  don't!  "  the  Hatter  said,  toss- 
ing his  head.  "  I  dare  say  you  never  even  spoke 
to  Time !  " 

"Perhaps  not,"  Alice  replied;  "but  I  know 
I  have  to  beat  time  when  I  learn  music." 

"Ah!  That  accounts  for  it,"  said  the  Hatter. 
"  He  won't  stand  beating.  Now,  if  you  only  kept 
on  good  terms  with  him,  he'd  do  almost  anything 


-^  16  8«- 

you  liked  with  the  clock.  For  instance,  suppose 
it  were  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  just  time  to 
begin  lessons :  you'd  only  have  to  whisper  a  hint 
to  Time,  and  round  goes  the  clock  in  a  twinkling! 
Half-past  one,  time  for  dinner ! '' 

(''  I  only  wish  it  were,'^  the  March  Hare  said 
to  itself  in  a  whisper.) 

''That  would  be  grand,  certainly,'^  said  Alice; 
''but  then  —  I  shouldn't  be  hungry  for  it,  you 
know." 

"Not  at  first,  perhaps,"  said  the  Hatter:  "but 
you  could  keep  it  to  half-past  one  as  long  as  you 
liked." 

"Is  that  the  way  you  manage?  "  Alice  asked. 

The  Hatter  shook  his  head.  "Not  I!"  he 
replied.  "  We  quarrelled  last  March  —  just  before 
lie  went  mad,  you  know  — "  (pointing  with  his 
teaspoon  at  the  March  Hare,)  "  —  it  was  at  the 
great  concert  given  by  the  Queen  of  Hearts,  and 
I  had  to  sing, — 

^Twinkle,  twinkle^  little  hat  I 
How  I  wonder  what  you're  at !  ^ 

You  know  the  song,  perhaps  ?  " 


^  17  S«- 


*rve  heard  something  like  it,"  said  Alice. 
''It  goes  on,  you  know,'^  the  Hatter  continued^ 
in  this  way,  — 

^Up  above  the  world  you  fly ^ 
Like  a  tea-tray  in  the  sky. 
Twinkle,  twinkle  —  ^" 

Here  the  Dormouse  shook  itself,  and  began 
singing  in  its  sleep,  ''  Twinkle,  twinkle,  twinkle, 
twinkle  — "  and  went  on  so  long  that  they  had 
to  pinch  it  to  make  it  stop. 

"Well,  rd  hardly  finished  the  first  verse,''  said 
the  Hatter,  ''when  the  Queen  cried  out  'He's 
murdering  the  time !     Off  with  his  head ! '  " 


-«  18  8«- 

''  How  dreadfully  savage ! ''  exclaimed  Alice. 

''  And  ever  since  tliat/^  the  Hatter  went  on  in  a 
mournful  tone,  *'lie  won^t  do  a  thing  I  ask!  It's 
always  six  o'clock  now.'' 

A  bright  idea  came  into  Alice's  head.  **  Is  that 
the  reason  so  many  tea-things  are  put  out  here?  " 
she  asked. 

''  Yes,  that's  it,"  said  the  Hatter  with  a  sigh. 
*'  It's  always  tea-time,  and  we've  no  time  to  wash 
the  things  between  whiles." 

''Then  you  keep  moving  round,  I  suppose?" 
said  Alice. 

''Exactly  so,"  said  the  Hatter:  "as  the  things 
get  used  up." 

"But  what  happens  when  you  come  to  the 
beginning  again?  "  Alice  ventured  to  ask. 

"  Suppose  we  change  the  subject,"  the  March 
Hare  interrupted,  yawning.  "  I'm  getting  tired 
of  this.     I  vote  the  young  lady  tells  us  a  story." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  know  one,"  said  Alice, 
rather  alarmed  at  the  proposal. 

"Then  the  Dormouse  shall!"  they  both  cried. 
"  Wake  up.  Dormouse! "  And  they  pinched  it  on 
both  sides  at  once. 


-98  19  8«- 

TiiO  Dormouse  slowly  opened  its  eyes.  *'I 
wasn't  asleep/'  it  said  in  a  hoarse,  feeble  voice, 
^'I  heard  every  word  you  fellows  were  saying/' 

'  Tell  us  a  story ! ''  said  the  March  Hare. 

■*  Yes,  please  do ! ''  pleaded  Alice. 

**And  be  quick  about  it,''  added  the  Hatter, 
'*or  you'll  be  asleep  again  before  it's  done." 

**  Once  upon  a  time  there  were  three  little  sis- 
ters," the  Dormouse  began  in  a  great  hurry ;  ''  and 
their  names  were  Elsie,  Lacie,  and  Tillie ;  and  they 
lived  at  the  bottom  of  a  well  — " 

*'What  did  they  live  on?"  said  Alice,  who 
always  took  a  great  interest  in  questions  of  eat- 
ing and  drinking. 

**They  lived  on  treacle,"  said  the  Dormouse, 
after  thinking  a  minute  or  two. 

*'They  couldn't  have  done  that,  you  know," 
Alice  gently  remarked.     *' They'd  have  been  ill." 

''  So  they  were,"  said  the  Dormouse ;  ''veri/  ill." 

Alice  tried  a  little  to  fancy  to  herself  what 
such  an  extraordinary  way  of  living  would  be 
like,  but  it  puzzled  her  too  much.  So  she  went 
on,  *'But  why  did  they  live  at  the  bottom  of 
a  well?" 


-58  20  8«- 

''Take  some  more  tea/^  the  March  Hare  said  to 
Alice,  very  earnestly. 

''Fve  had  nothing  yet/'  Alice  replied  in  an 
offended  tone,   ''so  I  can't  take  more." 

"  You  mean  you  can't  take  less,^'  said  the  Hatter : 
*'it's  very  easy  to  take  more  than  nothing." 

"  Nobody  asked  your  opinion,"  said  Alice. 

"Who's  making  personal  remarks  now?"  the 
Hatter  asked. 

Alice  did  not  quite  know  what  to  say  to  this : 
so  she  helped  herself  to  some  tea  and  bread-and- 
butter,  and  then  turned  to  the  Dormouse,  and 
repeated  her  question.  "Why  did  they  live  at 
the  bottom  of  a  well  ?  " 

The  Dormouse  again  took  a  minute  to  think 
about  it,  and  then  said,  "It  was  a  treacle-well." 

"  There's  no  such  thing ! "  Alice  was  beginning 
very  angrily,  but  the  Hatter  and  the  March  Hare 
went  "  Sh !  Sh !  "  and  the  Dormouse  remarked 
"If  you  can't  be  civil,  you'd  better  finish  the 
story  for  yourself." 

"  No,  please  go  on !  "  Alice  said  very  humbly. 
"  I  won't  interrupt  you  again.  I  dare  say  there 
may  be  o/^e." 


^  21  8«- 

**  One,  indeed ! ''  said  the  Dormouse  indignantly. 
However,  he  consented  to  go  on.  **  And  so  these 
three  little  sisters  —  they  were  learning  to  draw, 
you  know  — '' 

''What  did  they  draw?''  said  Alice,  quite  for- 
getting her  promise. 

''Treacle,^'  said  the  Dormouse,  without  consid- 
ering at  all,  this  time. 

"I  want  a  clean  cup,^'  interrupted  the  Hatter: 
''let's  all  move  one  place  on." 

He  moved  on  as  he  spoke,  and  the  Dormouse 
followed  him.  The  March  Hare  moved  into  the 
Dormouse's  place,  and  Alice  rather  unwillingly 
took  the  place  of  the  March  Hare.  The  Hatter 
was  the  only  one  who  got  any  advantage  from 
the  change ;  and  Alice  was  a  good  deal  worse  off 
than  before,  as  the  March  Hare  had  just  upset 
the  milk-jug  into  his  plate. 

Alice  did  not  wish  to  offend  the  Dormouse 
again,  so  she  said,  "But  I  don't  understand. 
Where  did  they  draw  the  treacle  from?" 

•'Tou  can  draw  water  out  of  a  water-well," 
said  the  Hatter;  "so  I  should  think  you  could 
draw  treacle  out  of  a  treacle-well  —  eh,  stupid?" 


^  22  8«- 

''But  they  were  in  the  well/^  Alice  said  to  the 
Dormouse,  not  choosing  to  notice  this  last  re- 
mark. 

"  Of  course  they  were/'  said  the  Dormouse : 
''well  in.'' 

This  answer  so  confused  poor  Alice,  that  she 
let  the  Dormouse  go  on  for  some  time  without 
interrupting  it. 

"They  were  learning  to  draw,"  the  Dormouse 
went  on,  yawning  and  rubbing  its  eyes,  for  it 
was  getting  very  sleepy;  "and  they  drew  all 
manner  of  things  —  everything  that  begins  with 
an  M— " 
^   "Why  with  an  M?"  said  Alice. 

"Why  not?"  said  the  March  Hare. 

Alice  was  silent. 

The  Dormouse  had  closed  its  eyes  by  this  time, 
and  was  going  off  into  a  doze;  but,  on  being 
pinched  by  the  Hatter,  it  woke  up  again  with 
a  little  shriek,  and  went  on:  "  —  that  begins 
with  an  M,  such  as  mouse-traps,  and  the  moon, 
and  memory,  and  muchness  —  you  know  you  say 
things  are  '  much  of  a  muchness  '  —  did  you  ever 
see  such  a  thing  as  a  drawing  of  a  muchness?  " 


■^  ^o  B^ 


"'^ 


**Eeally,  now  you  ask  me/'  said  Alice,  very 
much  confused,  ''I  don't  think  —  " 

^'Then  you  shouldn't  talk,"  said  the  Hatter. 

This  piece  of  rudeness  was  more  than  Alice 
could  bear.  She  got  up  in  great  disgust,  and 
walked  off.  The  Dormouse  fell  asleep  instantly, 
and  neither  of  the  others  took  the  least  notice 
of  her  going,  though  she  looked  back  once  or 
twice,  half  hoping  that  they  would  call  after  her. 
The  last  time  she  saw  them,  they  were  trying 
to  put  the  Dormouse  into  the  teapot. 

—  Lewis  Carroll. 


-^  24  8«- 


NURSE'S  SONG 


When  the  voices  of  children  are  heard  on  the 
green 

And  laughing  is  heard  on  the  hill, 
My  heart  is  at  rest  within  my  breast, 

And  everything  else  is  still. 


Then  come  home,  my  children,  the   sun  is  gone 
down, 

And  the  dews  of  night  arise ; 
Come,  come,  leave  off  play,  and  let  us  away 

Till  the  morning  appears  in  the  skies. 


-«  25  9«- 

No,  no,  let  us  play,  for  it  is  yet  day, 

And  we  cannot  go  to  sleep ; 
Besides,  in  the  sky  the  little  birds  fly, 

And  the  hills  are  all  covered  with  sheep. 

Well,  well,  go  and  play  till  the  light  fades  away, 

And  then  go  home  to  bed. 
The  little  ones  leaped  and  shouted  and  laughed 

And  all  the  hills  echoed. 

—  William  Blake. 


THE  RAINBOW 


My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky : 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began ; 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man ; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die  ! 
The  child  is  father  of  the  man ; 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety. 

— William  Wordsworth 


LULLABY   OF  AN   INFANT   CHIEF 


0,  hush  thee,  my  babie,  thy  sire  was  a  knight, 

Thy  mother  a  lady  both  lovely  and  bright ; 

The  woods  and  the  glens,  from  the  towers  which 

we  see, 
Th^y  all  are  belonging,  dear  babie,  to  thee. 

0,  fear  not  the  bugle,  though  loudly  it  blows 
It  calls  but  the  warders  that  guard  thy  repose ; 
Their  bows  would  be  bended,  their  blades  would 

be  red. 
Ere  the  step  of  a  foeman  draws  near  to  thy  bed. 

0,  hush  thee,  my  babie,  the  time  soon  will  come. 
When  thy  sleep  shall  be  broken  by  trumpet  and 

drum ; 
Then  hush  thee,  my  darling,  take  rest  while  you  may, 
For  strife  comes  with  manhood, and  waking  with  day. 


—  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


-«  27  8«- 


Pe'o  lif 

as'pect 
grav'i  ty 
floim'der^d 
hearth 


THE   SNOW-IMAGE 

ere  at'ing 
del'i  cat^ 
twrii^lit 
rtid'di  ness 
im  agi  na'tion 

I.     THE    IMAGE 


a  void'ed 
ex  pla  na'tion 
de  par'ttir^ 
thim'bl^ 
dis  solved' 


One    afternoon    on    a    cold  winter's 
day,  when  the   sun  shone  with  chilly 
brightness    after    a    long 
storm,  two  children  asked 
leave    of  their  mother   to 
out  and  play  in 
the  new-fallen 
snow. 
The  elder  child 
was  a  little  girl, 
whom  her  parents 
used  to  call  Violet. 
Her    brother    was    known 
by  the  title  of  Peony,  on 
account  of  the  ruddiness  .of  his  round  little  face, 


^  28  8«- 

which  made  everybody  think  of  sunshine  and 
great  red  flowers. 

As  I  began  with  saying,  Violet  and  Peony 
begged  their  mother  to  let  them  run  out  and 
play  in  the  new  snow.  Though  it  had  looked 
so  dismal  drifting  down  out  of  the  gray  sky,  it 
had  a  cheerful  aspect,  now  that  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing on  it. 

The  children  lived  in  the  city,  and  had  no  wider 
play-place  than  a  little  garden  in  front  of  the 
house,  divided  by  a  white  fence  from  the  street, 
with  a  pear-tree  and  two  or  three  plum-trees  in  it, 
and  some  rose-bushes  just  in  front  of  the  parlor- 
windows.  The  trees  and  shrubs,  however,  were 
now  leafless,  and  their  twigs  were  covered  with 
the  light  snow. 

''  Yes,  Violet,  —  yes,  my  little  Peony,''  said  their 
kind  mother;  ''you  may  go  out  and  play  in  the 
new  snow.'' 

Then  the  good  lady  bundled  up  her  darlings  in 
woollen  jackets,  and  put  comforters  round  their 
necks  and  worsted  mittens  on  their  hands,  and 
gave  them  a  kiss  apiece,  by  way  of  a  spell  to  keep 
away  Jack  Frost.     Forth  went  the  two  children. 


^  29  6<- 

with  a  hop-skip-and-jump  that  carried  them  at 
once  into  the  very  heart  of  a  huge  snow-drift. 
Violet  emerged  like  a  snow-bunting,  but  little 
Peony  floundered  out  with  his  round  face  in  full 
bloom.     Then  what  a  merry  time  they  had ! 

At  last,  when  they  had  frosted  one  another  all 
over  with  handfuls  of  snow,  Violet,  after  laughing 
heartily  at  little  Peony's  figure,  was  struck  with  a 
new  idea. 

*' You  look  exactly  like  a  snow-image.  Peony,'' 
said  she,  ''  if  your  cheeks  were  not  so  red.  And 
that  puts  me  in  mind !  Let  us  make  an  image 
out  of  snow,  —  an  image  of  a  little  girl,  —  and  it 
shall  be  our  sister,  and  shall  run  about  and  play 
with  us  all  winter  long.     Won't  it  be  nice  ?  " 

''Oh,  yes!"  cried  Peony,  ''that  will  be  nice! 
And  mamma  shall  see  it !  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Violet;  "mamma  shall  see 
the  new  little  girl.  But  she  must  not  make  her 
come  into  the  warm  parlor ;  for,  you  know%  our 
little  snow-sister  will  not  love  the  warmth." 

And  then  the  children  began  this  work  of  mak- 
ing a  snow-image  that  should  run  about;  while 
their  mother,  who  was  sitting  at  the  window  and 


^  30  9«- 

overheard  some  of  their  talk,  could  not  help  smil- 
ing at  the  gravity  with  which  they  set  about  it. 
They  really  seemed  to  imagine  that  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  creating  a  live  little  girl  out  of 
the  snow. 

The  mother  gazed  at  the  children  a  moment; 
then  she  went  on  with  her  work.  What  it  was 
I  have  forgotten ;  but  she  was  either  trimming  a 
bonnet  for  Violet,  or  darning  a  pair  of  stockings 
for  Peony.  She  could  not  help  turning  her  head 
to  the  window,  however,  to  see  how  the  children 
got  on  with  their  snow-image. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  those  bright  little 
souls  at  their  task.  Moreover,  it  was  really  won- 
derful to  observe  how  skilfully  they  managed  the 
matter.  Violet  told  Peony  what  to  do,  while,  with 
her  own  delicate  fingers  she  shaped  the  snow  fig- 
ure. It  seemed,  in  fact,  not  so  much  to  be  made 
by  the  children,  as  to  grow  up  under  their  hands, 
while  they  were  playing  and  prattling  about  it. 

Their  mother  was  quite  surprised  at  this ;  and 
the  longer  she  looked,  the  more  and  more  sur- 
prised she  grew. 

*' Peony,  Peony  !^^  cried  Violet  to  her  brother, 


-«  31  8«- 

who  had  gone  to  another  part  of  the  garden, 
''bring  me  some  of  that  fresh  snow,  from  the 
farthest  corner,  where  we  have  not  been  tram- 
pling. I  want  to  shape  our  little  snow-sister's 
bosom  with  it.  You  know  that  part  must  be 
quite  pure,  just  as  it  came  out  of  the  sky ! '' 

''Here  it  is,  Violet !''  answered  Peony,  as  he 
came  floundering  through  the  drift.  "  Here  is 
the  snow  for  her  little  bosom.  0  Violet,  how 
beau-ti-ful  she  begins  to  look !  '^ 

"Yes,''  said  Violet,  ''our  snow-sister  does  look 
very  lovely.  I  did  not  know.  Peony,  that  we 
could  make  such  a  sweet  little  girl  as  this.'' 

The  mother,  as  she  listened,  thought  how  de- 
lightful it  would  be,  if  fairies,  or,  still  better,  if 
angel-children  were  to  come  from  Paradise,  and 
play  with  her  own  darlings,  and  help  them  to 
make  their  snow-image. 

Violet  and  Peony  would  not  be  aware  of  their 
playmates,  —  only  they  would  see  that  the  image 
grew  very  beautiful  while  they  worked  at  it,  and 
would  think  that  they  themselves  had  done  it  all. 

"  My  little  girl  and  boy  deserve  such  playmates, 
if  children  ever  did!  "  said  the  mother  to  herself; 


-«  32  8<- 


and  then  she  smiled  again  at  her  own  motherly 
pride. 

''  Peony,  Peony  !  '^  cried  Violet ;  for  her  brother 
was  again  at  the 
other  side  of  the       .,.     ^;y 
arden.     ''Bring   ^\\^^k^^'!J^'\4 


g 

me    those    light  ' 

wreaths  of  snow  ,  hj 

that  have  rested 

on     the      lower 

branches   of  the 

pear-tree.    You  can  climb 

on  the  snow-drift  and  reach   .^ 

them  easily.     I  must  have^ 

them  to  make  some  ringlets  lor 

our  snow-sister's  head  !  '^ 

''Here  they  are,  Violet !''  answered  the  little 
boy.  "  Take  care  you  don't  break  them.  Well 
done !     Well  done  !     How  pretty ! '' 

"Does  she  not  look  sweetly?''  said  Violet. 
"  Now  we  must  have  some  shining  bits  of  ice, 
to  make  the  brightness  of  her  eyes.  Mamma 
will  see  how  beautiful  she  is ;  but  papa  will  say, 
'  Nonsense !  —  Come  in  out  of  the  cold ! '  " 


-jS  33  8«- 

*^Let  us  call  Mamma  to  look  out/'  said  Peony; 
and  then  he  shouted,  "Mamma!  Mamma!! 
Mamma ! ! !  Look  out,  and  see  what  a  nice  little 
girl  we  are  making.'' 

The  mother  put  down  her  work,  for  an  instant, 
and  looked  out  of  the  window.  She  saw  Violet 
and  Peony  still  at  work ;  Peony  bringing  fresh 
snow,  and  Violet  making  the  figure.  And  as  she 
looked  at  the  snow-child,  the  mother  thought  to 
herself  that  never  before  was  there  a  snow-figure 
so  well  made,  nor  ever  such  a  dear  little  boy  and 
girl  to  make  it.  .^ 

She  sat  down  again  to  her  work,  and  made  as 
much  haste  with  it  as  possible ;  because  twilight 
would  soon  come,  and  Peony's  frock  was  not  yet 
finished.  Faster  and  faster,  therefore,  went  her 
flying  fingers.  The  children  also  kept  busily  at 
work  in  the  garden,  and  still  the  mother  listened, 
whenever  she  could  hear  a  word. 

She  was  amused  to  see  how  their  imagination 
had  got  mixed  up  with  what  they  were  doing,  and 
how  they  were  carried  away  by  it.  They  seemed 
to  think  that  the  snow-child  would  run  about 
and  play  with  them. 


-«  34  B«- 


'^<?<£.=C^'^sN^<;;: 


■« 


THE    SNOW-IMAGE 


8  35  8«- 

''  What  a  nice  playmate  she  will  be  for  us,  all 
winter  long!''  said  Violet.  "I  hope  Papa  will 
not  be  afraid  of  her  giving  us  a  cold!  Sha'n't 
you  love  her  dearly,  Peony?'' 

''  Oh  yes  !  "  cried  Peony.  ''  And  I  will  hug  her, 
and  she  shall  sit  down  close  by  me,  and  drink 
some  of  my  warm  milk !  " 

''Oh  no.  Peony!"  answered  Violet,  with  grave 
wisdom.  "That  will  not  do  at  all.  Warm  milk 
will  not  be  good  for  our  little  snow-sister.  Little 
snow-people,  like  her,  eat  nothing  but  icicles.  No, 
no.  Peony ;  we  must  not  give  her  anything  warm 
to  drink !  " 

II.    THE    AWAKENING 

There  was  a  minute  or  two  of  silence;  for 
Peony,  whose  short  legs  were  never  weary,  had 
gone  again  to  the  other  side  of  the  garden.  All  of 
a  sudden,  Violet  cried  out,  "Look  here.  Peony! 
Come  quickly !  A  light  has  been  shining  on  her 
cheeks  out  of  that  rose-colored  cloud!  And  the 
color  does  not  go  away !     Is  not  that  beautiful?" 

"Yes;  it  is  beau-ti-ful,"  answered  Peony.  "  Oh 
Violet,  only  look  at  her  hair !     It  is  all  like  gold." 


^  36  S<- 

''  Oh  yes,'^  said  Violet,  ''  that  color,  you  know, 
comes  from  the  golden  clouds  that  we  see  up  there 
in  the  sky.  She  is  almost  finished  now.  But  her 
lips  must  be  made  very  red,  —  redder  than  her 
cheeks.  Perhaps,  Peony,  it  will  make  them  red 
if  we  both  kiss  them !  '^ 

So  the  mother  heard  two  smart  little  smacks,  as 
if  both  her  children  were  kissing  the  snow-image 
on  its  frozen  mouth.  But,  as  this  did  not  seem 
to  make  the  lips  quite  red  enough,  Violet  proposed 
that  the  snow-child  should  kiss  Peony's  scarlet 
cheek. 

**  Come,  little  snow-sister,  kiss  me ! ''  cried  Peony. 

''There!  she  has  kissed  you,''  added  Violet, 
"  and  now  her  lips  are  very  red.  And  she  blushed 
a  little,  too !  " 

"  Oh,  what  a  cold  kiss !  "  cried  Peony. 

Just  then,  there  came  a  breeze  of  the  pure  west 
wind  sweeping  through  the  garden  and  rattling 
the  parlor-windows.  It  sounded  so  wintry  cold 
that  the  mother  was  about  to  tap  on  the  window- 
pane  with  her  thimble  finger,  to  summon  the  two 
children  in,  when  they  both  cried  out  to  her  with 
one  voice,  — 


-«  37  e«- 

*' Mamma,  Mamma!  we  have  finished  our  little 
snow-sister,  and  she  is  running  about  the  garden 
with  us !  Dear  Mamma!  please  look  out  and  see 
what  a  sweet  playmate  we  have." 

The  mother  looked  out  of  the  window;  and 
what  do  you  think  she  saw  there  ? 

If  you  will  believe  me,  there  was  a  small  figure 
of  a  girl,  dressed  all  in  white,  playing  about  the 
garden  with  the  two  children. 

The  mother  thought  it  must  certainly  be  the 
daughter  of  one  of  the  neighbors ;  so  she  wexit  to 
the  door  to  ask  her  to  come  into  the  parlor;  for 
now  that  the  sun  had  set  it  was  growing  very 
cold. 

She  called  Violet,  and  whispered  to  her :  ''Violet, 
my  darling,  what  is  the  child's  name  ?  Does  she 
live  near  us?  " 

''  Why,  dearest  Mamma,"  answered  Violet,  ''this 
is  our  little  snow-sister,  whom  we  have  just  been 
making!  " 

"Yes,  dear  Mamma,"  cried  Peony,  "this  is  our 
snow-image !     Is  it  not  a  dear  little  sister?  " 

At  this  instant  a  flock  of  snow-birds  came 
flitting   through  the  air.     As  was  natural,  they 


^  38  8«- 

avoided  Violet  and  Peony,  but  they  flew  at  once 
to  the  white-robed  child,  fluttered  about  her  head, 
lighted  on  her  shoulders,  and  seemed  to  claim  her 
as  an  old  friend. 

She  was  as  glad  to  see  these  little  birds  as  they 
were  to  see  her,  and  welcomed  them  by  holding 
out  both  her  hands.  They  all  tried  to  light  on 
her  two  palms  and  ten  small  fingers  and  thumbs, 
crowding  one  another  off,  with  an  immense  flutter- 
ing of  their  tiny  wings. 

Violet  and  Peony  stood  laughing  at  this  pretty 
sight ;  for  they  enjoyed  the  merry  time  which 
their  new  playmate  was  having  with  these  small- 
winged  friends,  almost  as  much  as  if  they  them- 
selves took  part  in  it. 

*'  Violet,'^  said  her  mother,  ''  tell  me  the  truth, 
without  any  jest.     Who  is  this  little  girl?  ^' 

**  My  darling  Mamma,  ^^  answered  Violet,  "  I  have 
told  you  truly  who  she  is.  It  is  our  little  snow- 
image,  which  Peony  and  I  have  been  making. 
Peony  will  tell  you  so,  as  well  as  I.'' 

"Yes,  Mamma,'^  said  Peony,  "this  is  our  little 
snow-child.  Is  she  not  a  nice  one  ?  But,  Mamma, 
her  hand  is  so  very  cold ! '/ 


-«  39  8«- 

Just  then  the  father  of  Violet  and  Peony 
appeared.  He  saw  the  little  white  stranger  run- 
ning to  and  fro  in  the  garden  like  a  dancing  snow- 
wreath,  and  the  flock  of  snow-birds  fluttering 
about  her  head. 

''What  little  girl  may  that  be?''  he  inquired/ 
''  Surely  her  mother  must  be  crazy  to  let  her  go 
out  in  such  cold  weather,  with  only  that  white 
gown  and  those  thin  slippers ! '' 

"  My  dear  husband,''  said  his  wife,  ''  I  know  no 
more  about  the  little  thing  than  you  do.  Violet 
and  Peony  insist  that  she  is  nothing  but  a  snow- 
image,  which  they  have  been  busy  about  in  the 
garden  almost  all  the  afternoon." 

As  she  said  this,  the  mother  glanced  toward  the 
spot  where  the  children's  snow-image  had  been 
made.  What  was  her  surprise  to  find  that  there 
was  not  a  trace  of  so  much  labor !  —  no  image  at 
all !  —  no  piled  up  heap  of  snow !  —  nothing  what- 
ever, but  the  prints  of  little  footsteps. 

''  This  is  very  strange !  "  said  she. 

''What  is  strange,  dear  Mother?  "  asked  Violet. 
"  Dear  Father,  do  you  not  see  how  it  is  ?  This  is 
our  snow-image,  which  Peony  and  I  have  made, 


-«  40  8«- 

because  we  wanted  another  playmate.  Did  we 
not,  Peony?  ^' 

''Yes,  Papa,^^  said  Peony.  ''This  is  our  little 
snow-sister.  Is  she  not  beau-ti-ful?  But  she 
gave  me  such  a  cold  kiss ! '' 

"Nonsense,  children!  Do  not  tell  me  of  mak- 
ing live  figures  out  of  snow,''  cried  their  father. 
"Come,  Wife;  this  little  stranger  must  not  stay 
out  in  the  cold  a  moment  longer.  We  will  bring 
her  into  the  parlor;  and  you  shall  give  her  a 
supper  of  warm  bread  and  milk,  and  make  her  as 
comfortable  as  you  can.  Meanwhile,  I  will  inquire 
among  the  neighbors,  or  send  the  city-crier  about 
the  streets  to  give  notice  of  a  lost  child." 

"  Dear  Father,''  cried  Violet,  "  it  is  true  what  I 
have  been  telling  you !  This  is  our  little  snow- 
girl,  and  she  cannot  live  unless  she  breathes  the 
cold  west-wind.  Do  not  make  her  come  into  the 
hot  room !  " 

"  Not  bring  her  in !  "  exclaimed  the  kind-hearted 
man.  "Why,  you  are. crazy,  my  little  Violet!  — 
quite  crazy,  my  small  Peony!  She  is  so  cold, 
already,  that  her  hand  has  almost  frozen  mine,  in 
spite  of  my  thick  gloves.     Would  you  have  her 


-«  41  8«- 

freeze  to  death  ?  No  wonder  she  looks  like  snow. 
She  is  half  frozen,  poor  little  thing,  but  a  good 
fire  will  make  her  all  right/' 

So  the  good  man  placed  the  snow-child  on  the 
hearth-rug,  in  front  of  the  hissing  and  fuming 
stove. 

''  Now  she  will  be  comfortable  ! ''  cried  Mr.  Lind- 
sey,  rubbing  his  hands  and  looking  about  him 
with  the  pleasantest  smile  you  ever  saw.     ^'  Make 
yourself  at  home,  my  child.'' 

Sad,  sad  and  drooping,  looked  the  little  white 
maiden,  as  she  stood  on  the  hearth-rug,  with  the 
hot  blast  of  the  stove  striking  her. 

Once  she  glanced  toward  the  windows,  and 
caught  sight  of  the  snow-covered  roofs  and  the 
glittering  stars.  The  bleak  wind  rattled  the  win- 
dow-panes as  if  it  were  calling  her  to  come  forth ; 
but  there  stood  the  snow-child,  drooping,  before 
the  hot  stove. 

The  mother  went  in  search  of  a  shawl  and 
stockings,  and  good  Mr.  Lindsey  took  his  depart- 
ure, shutting  the  parlor-door  carefully  behind  him. 
But  he  had  barely  reached  the  street-gate,  when 
he  was  recalled   by  the    screams  of  Violet  and 


-«  42  8«- 


Peony,    and    the   rapping   of   a   thimbled   finger 
against  the  parlor  window. 

"  Husband !  Husband ! ''  cried  his  wife,  ''  there 
is  no  need  of  going  for  the  child^s  parents !  ^' 

s  *' We  told  you  so.  Father!  '^  cried  Violet 

and  Peony,  as  he  reentered  the 
parlor.     **  You  would  bring  her 
in;  and  now  our  poor  —  dear 
—  beau-ti-ful  little  snow-sister 
is  thawed !  ^' 

And  their  own  sweet  little 
faces  were  already  dissolved 
in  tears ;  so  that  their  father, 
seeing  what  strange  things 
may  sometimes  happen,  felt 
not  a  little  anxious  lest  his 
children  might  be  going  to 
thaw  too !     That  would  be  a  sad  misfortune  ! 

In  his  surprise,  he  asked  his  wife  for  an  expla- 
nation. She  could  only  reply,  that,  being  called 
to  the  parlor  by  the  cries  of  Violet  and  Peony,  she 
found  no  trace  of  the  little  maid,  except  a  heap 
of  snow,  which,  while  she  was  gazing  at  it,  melted 
away  upon  the  hearth-rug. 


-«  43  8«- 

^^And  there  you  see  all  that  is  left  of  it! ''  she 
added,  pointing  to  a  pool  of  water  in  front  of  the 
stove. 

"•  Yes,  Father,'^  said  Violet,  looking  sadly  at  him 
through  her  tears,  '*  there  is  all  that  is  left  of  our 
dear  little  snow-sister!  ^' 

—  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 


THE  FIRST   SNOW-FALL 

The  snow  had  begun  in  the  gloaming, 

And  busily  all  the  night 
Had  been  heaping  field  and  highway 

With  a  silence  deep  and  white. 

Every  pine  and  fir  and  hemlock 
Wore  ermine  too  dear  for  an  earl, 

And  the  poorest  twig  on  the  elm-tree 
Was  ridged  inch  deep  with  pearl. 

From  sheds  new-roofed  with  Carrara 
Came  Chanticleer's  muflled  crow, 

The  stiff  rails  were  softened  to  swan's-down, 
And  still  fluttered  down  the  snow. 


-«  44  9«- 

I  stood  and  watched  by  the  window 
The  noiseless  work  of  the  sky, 

And  the  sudden  flurries  of  snow-birds^ 
Like  brown  leaves  whirling  by. 

I  thought  of  a  mound  in  sweet  Auburn 
Where  a  little  headstone  stood ; 

How  the  flakes  were  folding  it  gently, 
As  did  robins  the  babes  in  the  wood. 

Up  spoke  our  own  little  Mabel, 

Saying,  ''Father,  who  makes  it  snow? 

And  I  told  of  the  good  All-Father 
Who  cares  for  us  here  below. 

Again  I  looked  at  the  snow-fall, 
And  thought  of  the  leaden  sky 

That  arched  o^er  our  first  great  sorrow. 
When  that  mound  was  heaped  so  high 

I  remembered  the  gradual  patience 
That  fell  from  that  cloud  like  snow. 

Flake  by  flake,  healing  and  hiding 
The  scar  of  our  deep-plunged  woe. 


-«  45  8<- 

And  again  to  the  child  I  whispered, 

*'The  snow  that  husheth  all, 
Darling,  the  merciful  Father 

Alone  can  make  it  fall  !'^ 

Then,  with  eyes  that  saw  not,  I  kissed  her ; 

And  she,  kissing  back,  could  not  know 
That  my  kiss  was  given  to  her  sister. 

Folded  close  under  deepening  snow. 

— -  Jambs  Russell  Lowbll. 


^IWc^<i 


•^  46  Sc- 


at THE  BACK  OF  THE  NORTH  WIND 


van'ish^d 

cav'erns 

a  maz0'ment 

jag'u  ar 

we^'s^l 

con  clud'ed 

gla'cier 

per  SIS  ted 

lej^'pard 

mis'sions 

oc'cu  pl^d 

gle^m'ing 

I.     THE    BETTER   LAND 


When  Diamond 
came  to  himself 
after  he  fell,  he 
found  himself  at 
the  back  of  the 
North  Wind. 

North  Wind  her- 
self was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  Neither 
was  there  any  snow 
or  ice  within  sight. 
The  sun  too  had 
vanished ;  but  that 
was  no  matter,  for 
there    was    plenty 


^  47  8«- 

of  a  still,  rayless  light.  Where  it  came  from  he 
never  found  out ;  but  he  thought  it  belonged  to 
the  country  itself. 

Sometimes  he  thought  it  came  out  of  the  flowers, 
which  were  very  bright,  but  had  no  strong  color. 

He  said  the  river  —  for  all  agree  that  there  is 
a  river  there  —  flowed  not  only  through,  but  over 
grass ;  its  channel,  instead  of  being  rock,  stones, 
pebbles,  or  anything  else,  was  of  pure  meadow 
grass,  not  very  long. 

He  insisted  that  if  it  did  not  sing  tunes  in 
people's  ears,  it  sang  tunes  in  their  heads,  in 
proof  of  which  I  may  mention  that,  in  the  trou- 
bles which  followed.  Diamond  was  often  heard 
singing;  and  when  asked  what  he  was  singing, 
would  answer,  ''  One  of  the  tunes  the  river  at  the 
back  of  the  North  Wind  sang.'' 

And  I  may  as  well  say,  at  once,  that  Diamond 
never  told  these  things  to  any  one  but  —  no,  I 
had  better  not  say  who  it  was ;  but  whoever  it 
was  told  me,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  well  to 
write  them  for  my  child-readers. 

He  could  not  say  that  he  was  very  happy  there, 
for  he  had  neither  his  father  nor  mother  with 


^  48  8«- 

him,  but  he  felt  so  still  and  quiet  and  patient  and 
contented,  that,  as  far  as  the  feeling  went,  it  was 
something  better  than  happiness.  Nothing  went 
wrong  at  the  back  of  the  North  Wind.  Neither 
was  anything  quite  right,  he  thought.  Only  every- 
thing was  going  to  be  right  some  day. 

When  the  person  he  told  about  it  asked  him 
whether  he  saw  anybody  he  knew  there,  he 
answered,  ''  Only  a  little  girl  belonging  to  the 
gardener,  who  thought  he  had  lost  her,  but  he  was 
mistaken,  for  there  she  was  safe  enough,  and  was 
to  come  back  some  day,  as  I  came  back,  if  they 
would  only  wait.^' 

*^  Did  you  talk  to  her,  Diamond?  '' 

''  No.  Nobody  talks  there.  They  only  look  at 
each  other,  and  understand  everything.'' 

*as  it  cold  there?'' 

-No." 

'as  it  hot?" 

^^No." 

''What  is  it,  then?" 

"You  never  think  about  such  things  there." 

"  What  a  queer  place  it  must  be !  " 

*'  It's  a  very  good  place," 


''  Do  you  wish  to  go  back  again  ?  '' 

*'No:  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  left  it;  I  feel 
it  here,  somewhere/' 

''  Did  the  people  there  look  pleased?  '' 

''Yes  —  quite  pleased,  only  a  little  sad.'' 

''  Then  they  didn't  look  glad  ?  " 

''They  looked  as  if  they  were  waiting  to  be 
gladder  some  day." 

This  was  how  Diamond  used  to  answer  questions 
about  that  country.  And  now  I  will  take  up  the 
story  again,  and  tell  you  how  he  got  back  to  this 
country. 

When  one  at  the  back  of  the  North  Wind  wished 
to  know  how  things  were  going  with  any  one  he 
loved,  he  had  to  go  to  a  certain  tree,  climb  the 
stem,  and  sit  down  in  the  branches.  In  a  few 
minutes,  if  he  kept  very  still,  he  would  see  what 
was  going  on  with  the  people  he  loved. 

One  day  when  Diamond  was  sitting  in  this  tree, 
he  began  to  long  very  much  to  get  home  again, 
and  no  wonder,  for  he  saw  his  mother  crying. 

But  how  was  he  to  set  about  it  ?  If  he  could 
only  see  North  Wind !  But  the  moment  he  was 
at  her  back,   she  was  gone  altogether  from  his 


-«  50  B«- 

sight.  He  had  never  seen  her  back.  She  might 
be  sitting  on  her  doorstep  still,  looking  southwards, 
and  waiting,  white  and  thin  and  blue-eyed,  until 
she  was  wanted. 

Or  she  might  have  again  become  a  mighty 
creature,  with  power  to  do  that  which  was  de- 
manded of  her,  and  gone  far  away  upon  many 
missions.  She  must  be  somewhere,  however.  He 
could  not  go  home  without  her,  and,  therefore,  he 
must  find  her. 

She  could  never  have  intended  to  leave  him 
always  away  from  his  mother.  If  there  had  been 
any  danger  of  that,  she  would  have  told  him,  and 
given  him  his  choice  about  going.  For  North 
Wind  was  honest.  How  to  find  North  Wind, 
therefore,  occupied  all  his  thoughts. 

In  his  anxiety  about  his  mother,  he  used  to 
climb  the  tree  every  day,  and  sit  in  its  branches. 

One  day  he  was  sitting  on  one  of  the  outer 
branches  of  the  tree  looking  southwards  after  his 
home.  Far  away  was  a  blue,  shining  sea  dotted 
with  gleaming  and  sparkling  specks  of  white. 
Those  were  the  icebergs. 

Nearer,  he  saw  a  great  range  of  snow-capped 


^  51  8<- 

mountains,  and  down  below  him,  the  lovely 
meadow-grass*  of  the  country,  with  the  stream 
flowing  and  flowing  through  it,  away  towards  the 
sea. 

As  he  looked  he  began  to  wonder,  for  the  whole 
country  lay  beneath  him,  like  a  map,  and  that 
which  was  near  him  looked  just  as  small  as  that 
which  he  knew  to  be  many  miles  away.  The 
ridge  of  ice  and  snow  which  bounded  it  appeared 
but  a  few  yards  off,  and  no  larger  than  a  row  of 
pebbles  on  the  sea-shore. 

He  thought  he  could  see  North  Wind,  seated  as 
he  had  left  her,  on  the  other  side.  Hastily  he 
descended  the  tree,  and  to  his  amazement  found 
that  the  map  of  the  country  still  lay  at  his 
feet. 

He  stood  in  it.  With  one  stride  he  had  crossed 
the  river ;  with  another,  he  had  reached  the  ridge 
of  ice ;  with  the  third,  he  stepped  over  its  peaks, 
and  sank  wearily  down  at  North  Wind's  knees. 
For  there  she  sat  at  her  doorstep.  The  peaks  of 
the  great  ridge  of  ice  were  as  lofty  as  ever  behind 
her,  and  the  country  at  her  back  had  vanished 
from  Diamond's  view. 


^  52  8«- 


II.     DIAMOND    GOES   HOME 

North  Wind  was  as  still  as  Diamond  had  left 
her.     Her  pale  face  was  as  white  as  the  snow; 

her  eyes  were  as 
blue  as  the  cav- 
erns in  the  ice. 
The  instant 
Diamond  touched 
her,  her  face  be- 
gan to  change 
like  that  of  one 
waking  from 
sleep.  Light  be- 
gan to  shine  from 
the  blue  of  her 
eyes.  A  moment 
more,  and  she 
laid  her  hand 
on  Diamond's 
head,  and  began  playing  with  his  hair.  Diamond 
took  hold  of  her  hand,  and  laid  his  face  to  it. 
She  gave  a  little  start. 

*'How  very  alive   you   are,  child!''   she  said. 
''  Come  nearer  to  me." 


-«  53  6«- 

By  the  help  of  the  stones  all  around  he  climbed 
beside  her,  and  laid  himself  in  her  arms.  She 
gave  a  great  sigh,  slowly  lifted  her  arms,  and 
folded  them  about  him  until  she  clasped  him 
close. 

''  Have  you  been  sitting  here  ever  since  I  went 
through  you,  dear  North  Wind?  '^  asked  Diamond, 
stroking  her  hand. 

**  Yes,''  she  answered,  looking  at  him  with  her 
old  kindness. 

''  Aren't  you  very  tired  ?  " 

*'No;  I've  often  had  to  sit  longer.  Do  you 
know  how  long  you  have  been?  " 

"  Oh  !  years  and  years,"  answered  Diamond. 

**Tou  have  been  just  seven  days,"  returned 
North  Wind. 

''I  thought  I  had  been  a  hundred  years!" 
exclaimed  Diamond. 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say,"  replied  North  Wind.  ''You've 
been  away  from  here  seven  days ;  but  how  long 
you  may  have  been  in  there  is  quite  another  thing. 
Behind  my  back  and  before  my  face  things  are  so 
different!  They  don't  go  at  all  by  the  same 
rule." 


-«  54  8^ 

*^  I'm  very  glad/'  said  Diamond,  after  thinking 
awhile. 

''  Why  ?  ''  asked  North  Wind. 

*^  Because  I've  been  such  a  long  time  there,  and 
such  a  little  while  away  from  my  mother  and 
father,  and  my  little  sister." 

''  But  we  mustn't  talk  any  longer.  We  must  be 
oflf  now  in  a  few  minutes." 

Next  moment  Diamond  found  himself  sitting 
alone  on  the  rock.  North  Wind  had  gone.  A 
creature  like  a  great  bumble-bee  flew  past  his 
face ;  but  it  could  not  be  one,  for  there  were  no 
insects  among  the  ice. 

It  passed  him  again  and  again,  flying  in  circles 
around  him,  and  he  concluded  that  it  must  be 
North  Wind  herself,  no  bigger  than  Tom  Thumb 
when  his  mother  put  him  in  the  nutshell  lined 
with  flannel. 

A  moment  more,  and  she  perched  on  his  shoulder. 
'^  Come,  Diamond,"  she  said  in  his  ear,  ''  we  must 
go  now." 

Diamond  could  just  see  her  by  turning  his  head 
as  far  as  he  could,  but  only  with  one  eye,  for  his 
nose  came  between  her  and  the  other. 


^  55  8«- 

•'Won't  you  take  me  in  your  arms  and  carry 
me?  '^  he  said. 

''  Yes,"  replied  North  Wind,  **I  will  carry  you, 
but  you  shall  walk  a  little  first." 

She  jumped  from  his  shoulder,  but  when 
Diamond  looked  for  her  on  the  ground  he  could 
see  nothing  but  a  little  brown  spider  with  long 
legs  that  made  its  way  over  the  ice  and  snow 
towards  the  south. 

It  ran  very  fast  indeed,  for  a  spider,  but  Dia- 
mond ran  a  long  way  before  it,  and  then  sat  down 
and  waited  for  it. 

It  was  up  with  him  sooner  than  he  had  expected, 
however,  and  it  had  grown  a  good  deal.  And  the 
spider  grew  and  grew  and  went  faster  and  faster, 
till  all  at  once  Diamond  discovered  that  it  was 
not  a  spider  he  was  chasing,  but  a  weasel;  and 
away  glided  the  weasel ;  and  away  went  Diamond 
after  it.  He  had  to  run  as  fast  as  he  could  to 
keep  up  with  it. 

The  weasel  grew  and  grew  till  all  at  once 
Diamond  saw  that  it  was  not  a  weasel  but  a  cat. 
And  away  went  the  cat,  and  Diamond  ran  on  and 
on  after  it. 


^  56  8«- 

When  he  had  run  half  a  mile  he  found  the  cat 
waiting  for  him,  sitting  up  and  washing  her  face 
so  as  not  to  lose  time.  And  away  went  the  cat 
again,  and  Diamond  after  it. 

The  next  time  he  came  up  with  the  cat  he 
found  it  was  a  hunting-leopard.  The  hunting- 
leopard  grew  to  a  jaguar,  all  covered  with  spots 
like  eyes. 

The  jaguar  grew  to  a  Bengal  tiger.  At  none  of 
them  was  Diamond  afraid,  for  he  had  been  at 
North  Wind's  back,  and  he  could  be  afraid  of  her 
no  longer,  whatever  she  did  or  grew. 

The  tiger  flew  over  the  snow  in  a  straight  line 
for  the  south,  growing  less  and  less  to  Diamond's 
eyes,  until  it  was  only  a  black  speck  upon  the 
whiteness ;  and  then  it  vanished  altogether,  leav- 
ing the  little  boy  alone. 

Now  Diamond  felt  that  he  would  rather  not  run 
any  farther,  and  that  the  ice  was  very  rough. 
Besides,  he  was  near  the  clififs  that  bounded  the 
sea,  so  he  began  to  walk. 

''  North  Wind  will  come  back  to  me,''  he  said 
to  himself.  ''  I  know  that  she  will,  for  I  cannot 
go  much  farther  without  her," 


-«  57  8«- 


''  You  dear  boy !  Here  I  am !  '^  said  North 
Wind's  voice,  behind  him.  ''I  will  carry  you 
now,  if  you  wish.'' 

Diamond  turned,  and  saw  her  as  he  liked  best 
to  see  her,  stand- 
ing beside  him,  a 
tall  lady,  with  her 
long  hair  flowing 
overher  shoulders. 

"  Where's  the 
tiger,  and  the 
leopard,  and  the 
cat?"  he  asked, 
for  he  knew  all 
the  creatures  from 
his  picture-books. 
**But,  of  course,'' 
he  added,  '*  you 
were  the  tiger. 
I  was  puzzled  and 
forgot.  I  saw  it  such  a  long  way  off  before 
me,  and  when  I  turned  around  there  you  were 
behind  me.     It's  so  odd,  you  know." 

''  It  must  look  very  odd  to  you.  Diamond  ;  I  see 


^  58  8«- 

that.  But  it's  no  more  odd  to  me  than  to  break 
an  old  pine  tree  in  two.'^ 

'*  Well,  that's  odd  enough,"  said  Diamond. 

*'  So  it  is  !  I  forgot.  Well,  none  of  these  things 
are  odder  to  me  than  it  is  to  you  to  eat  bread 
and  butter." 

''Well,  that's  odd  too,  when  I  think  of  it,"  per- 
sisted Diamond.  ''  I  should  like  a  slice  of  bread 
and  butter!  I'm  afraid  to  say  how  long  it  is  — 
how  long  it  seems  to  me,  that  is  —  since  I  had 
anything  to  eat." 

*' Come,  then,"  said  North  Wind,  stooping  and 
holding  out  her  arms.  ''You  shall  have  some 
bread  and  butter  very  soon.  I  am  glad  to  find 
that  you  want  some." 

Diamond  held  up  his  hands  to  meet  hers,  and 
was  safe  in  her  arms.  North  Wind  bounded  into 
the  air.  Her  tresses  began  to  lift  and  rise,  and 
spread  and  stream,  and  flow  and  flutter ;  and  with 
a  roar  from  her  hair,  and  an  answering  roar  from 
one  of  the  great  glaciers  behind  them,  whose  slow 
torrent  tumbled  two  or  three  icebergs  at  once  into 
the  waves  at  their  feet.  North  Wind  and  Diamond 
went  flying  southwards.  -gborgk  macdonald 


-«  59  3«- 


A  BOY'S   WISH 


Ring-ting !     I  wish  I  were  a  Primrose, 

A  bright  yellow  Primrose  blowing  in  the  Spring ! 

The  stooping  boughs  above  me, 

The  wandering  bee  to  love  me, 
The  fern  and  moss  to  creep  across, 

And  the  Elm-tree  for  our  king ! 


Nay  —  stay !     I  wish  I  were  an  Elm-tree, 
A  great  lofty  Elm-tree,  with  green  leaves  gay ! 
The  winds  would  set  them  dancing. 
The  sun  and  moonshine  glance  in. 
The  birds  would  house  among  the  boughs, 
And  sweetly  sing! 


-»8  60  6«- 

Oh  — no  !     I  wish  I  were  a  Eobin, 

A  Robin  or  a  little  Wren,  everywhere  to  go ; 

Through  forest,  field,  or  garden. 

And  ask  no  leave  or  pardon. 
Till  Winter  comes  with  icy  thumbs 

To  rufile  up  our  wing! 

Well-tell !     Where  should  I  fly  to, 

Where  go  to  sleep  in  the  dark  wood  or  dell  ? 

Before  a  day  was  over. 

Home  comes  the  rover. 
For  Mother's  kiss,  —  sweeter  this 

Than  any  other  thing ! 

—  William  Allingham. 


^  61  SA- 


TINY TIM'S  CHRISTMAS  DINNER 


Cratch'it 
&s  sis'ted 

•com'for  ter 


disappoin'ted 
crip'pl^ 
es  cort'ed 
ex  cit^'ment 


It  was  Christ- 
mas-day,  and  Bob 
Cratchit     had     taken 
Tiny    Tim    to    church 
for  the  first  time. 

While  he  was  gone    /^ 
Mrs.  Cratchit,  assisted 
by   Belinda   Cratchit,    had 
laid  the  cloth  and  set  the 
table;  while  Master  Peter    -    " 
Cratchit    plunged    a    fork    ~^ 
into   the   saucepan   of   potatoes. 


thre^d'-bar^ 
is'sued 
la]/ln'dress 
re  ecji'o^d 


:r^. 


-«  62  8«- 

Now  two  smaller  Cratcliits,  boy  and  girl,  came 
running  in,  screaming  that  outside  the  baker's 
they  had  smelled  the  goose,  and  known  it  for 
their  own. 

These  young  Cratchits  danced  about  the  table, 
while  Master  Peter  Cratchit  blew  the  fire,  until 
the  slow  potatoes,  bubbling  up,  knocked  loudly  at 
the  saucepan  lid  to  be  let  out  and  peeled. 

''What  has  become  of  your  father,''  said  Mrs. 
Cratchit.  ''And  your  brother.  Tiny  Tim!  And 
Martha  wasn't  as  late  last  Christmas-day  by  half 
an  hour." 

"Here's  Martha,  Mother!  "  said  a  girl,  appearing 
as  she  spoke. 

"  Here's  Martha,  Mother !  "  cried  the  two  young 
Cratchits.    "Hurra !  There's  such  a  goose,  Martha! " 

"Why,  bless  your  heart,  my  dear,  how  late  you 
are ! "  said  Mrs.  Cratchit,  kissing  her  a  dozen 
times,  and  taking  off  her  shawl  and  bonnet  for 
her. 

"  We  had  a  great  deal  of  work  to  finish  up  last 
night,"  replied  the  girl,  "  and  had  to  clear  away 
this  morning.  Mother!  " 

"Well,  never  mind,  as  long  as  you  are  here," 


said   Mrs.  Cratchit.     "  Sit  down  before  the  fire, 
my  dear,  and  warm  yourself/' 

"  No,  no!  There's  Father  coming, '^  cried  the  two 
young  Cratchits,  who  were  everywhere  at  once. 

''  Hide,  Martha,  hide  ! '' 

So  Martha  hid  herself,  and  in  came  little  Bob, 
the  father,  with  at  least  three  feet  of  comforter 
hanging  down  before  him ;  and  his  threadbare 
clothes  darned  up  and  brushed,  and  Tiny  Tim 
upon  his  shoulder.  Alas  for  Tiny  Tim,  he  bore  a 
little  crutch,  and  had  his  legs  supported  by  an 
iron  frame ! 

''  Why,  Where's  our  Martha?  '^  cried  Bob  Cratchit, 
looking  round. 

*'Not  coming, '^  said  Mrs.  Cratchit. 

*'  Not  coming !  '^  said  Bob.  ''  Not  coming  upon 
Christmas-day ! '' 

Martha  didn't  like  to  see  him  disappointed,  if 
it  were  only  in  joke  ;  so  she  came  out  from  behind 
the  closet  door,  and  ran  into  his  arms,  while  the 
two  young  Cratchits  caught  up  Tiny  Tim  and 
carried  him  off  into  the  wash-house,  that  he  might 
hear  the  pudding  singing  in  the  kettle. 

**And  how  did  little  Tim  behave? ''  asked  Mrs. 


-»6  64  8«- 

Cratchit,  when  Bob  had  hugged  his  daughter  to 
his  heart's  content. 

**As  good  as  gold/'  said  Bob,  ''and  better. 
Somehow  he  gets  thoughtful,  sitting  by  himself 
so  much,  and  thinks  the  strangest  things  you  ever 
heard.  He  told  me  that  he  hoped  the  people  saw 
him  in  the  church,  because  he  was  a  cripple,  and 
it  might  be  pleasant  to  them  to  remember  upon 
Christmas-day,  who  made  lame  beggars  walk,  and 
blind  men  see." 

Bob's  voice  trembled  when  he  told  them  this, 
and  trembled  more  when  he  said  that  Tiny  Tim 
was  growing  strong  and  hearty. 

His  active  little  crutch  was  heard  upon  the 
floor,  and  back  came  Tiny  Tim  before  another 
word  was  spoken,  escorted  by  his  brother  and 
sister  to  his  stool  before  the  fire.  Then  Master 
Peter  and  the  two  young  Cratchits  went  to  bring 
the  goose,  with  which  they  soon  returned  in  high 
glee. 

Such  excitement  followed  that  you  might  have 
thought  a  goose  the  rarest  of  all  birds;  and  in 
truth  it  was  something  very  like  it  in  that  house. 
Mrs.  Cratchit  made  the  gravy  (ready  beforehand 


•^  65  8«- 

in  a  little  saucepan)  hissing  hot.  Master  Peter 
mashed  the  potatoes ;  Miss  Belinda  sweetened  the 
apple-sauce ;  Martha  dusted  the  hot  plates ;  Bob 
took  Tiny  Tim  beside  him  in  a  tiny  corner  at  the 
table. 

The  two  young  Cratchits  set  chairs  for  every- 
body, not  forgetting  themselves.  Then,  climbing 
into  their  chairs,  they  held  their  fingers  over  their 
lips,  lest  they  should  call  for  goose  before  their 
turn  came  to  be  helped. 

At  last  the  dishes  were  set  on,  and  grace  was 
said.  It  was  followed  by  a  breathless  pause,  as 
Mrs.  Cratchit,  looking  slowly  all  along  the  carving- 
knife,  prepared  to  plunge  it  in  the  breast.  When 
she  did,  and  when  the  long-expected  gush  of  stuff- 
ing issued  forth,  one  murmur  of  delight  arose  all 
round  the  board.  Even  Tiny  Tim,  excited  by  the 
two  young  Cratchits,  beat  on  the  table  with  the 
handle  of  his  knife,  and  feebly  cried,  "  Hurra!  '^ 

There  never  was  such  a  goose.  Bob  said  he 
didn^t  believe  there  ever  w^as  such  a  goose  cooked. 
Its  tenderness,  flavor,  and  size  were  wonderful  to 
think  of.  With  apple-sauce  and  mashed  potatoes, 
it  was  enough  dinner  for  the  whole  family. 


-98  66  8«- 

Indeed,  as  Mrs.  Cratch  it  said  with  great  delight 
(looking  at  one  small  bone  upon  the  dish),  they 
hadn't  eaten  all  of  it  yet.  But  every  one  had  had 
enough,  even  the  youngest  Cratchits.  But  now, 
the  plates  being  changed  by  Miss  Belinda,  Mrs. 
Cratchit  left  the  room  to  take  the  pudding  up  and 
bring  it  in. 

Suppose  it  should  not  be  done  enough !  Sup- 
pose it  should  break  in  turning  out!  Suppose 
somebody  should  have  climbed  over  the  wall  of 
the  back-yard,  and  stolen  it,  while  they  were 
merry  with  the  goose ! 

Halloo !  A  great  deal  of  steam !  The  pudding 
was  out  of  the  kettle.  A  smell  like  a  washing- 
day.  That  was  the  cloth.  A  smell  like  an  eating- 
house  and  a  baker's  next  door  to  each  other,  with 
a  laundress's  next  door  to  that!  That  was  the 
pudding !  In  half  a  minute  Mrs.  Cratchit  entered 
—  flushed,  but  smiling  proudly  —  with  the  pud- 
ding, like  a  speckled  cannon-ball,  so  hard  and 
firm,  and  decked  with  Christmas  holly. 

Oh,  a  wonderful  pudding!  Bob  Cratchit  said 
it  was  the  best  pudding  he  had  ever  seen.  Every- 
body had  something  to  say  about  it,  but  nobody 


^  67  B«- 


said  or  thought  it  was  at  all  a  small  pudding  for  a 
large  family. 

At  last  the  dinner  was  all  done,  the  hearth 
swept,  and  the  lire  made.  All  the  Cratchit  family 
drew  round  the  hearth,  and  watched  the  chest- 
nuts on  the  fire  as  they  sputtered  and  cracked. 
Then  Bob  said,  ''  Merry  Christmas  to  us  all,  my 
dears.     God  bless  us!  '^ 

"  God  bless  us  every  one !  '^  said  Tiny  Tim,  the 
last  of  all. 


—  Charles  Dickens. 


^  68  8«- 

THE   LITTLE   LAME   PRINCE 

for  lorn'  de^f '-mut^  gx  ceed'ing  ly 

par'a  pet  Do'lor  par  tic'u  lar  ly 

stra^n^d  im  ag'i  na  bl^  sen  sa'tion 

protec'tion  spec'tacl^s  quiv'ering 

I.    THE    TOWER 

One  winter  night,  when  all  the  plain  was  white 
with  moonlight,  a  tall  black  horse  was  seen  cross- 
ing it.  The  horse  was  ridden  by  a  man  also  big 
and  equally  black,  carrying  before  him  on  the 
saddle  a  woman  and  a  child. 

The  woman  was  to  inhabit  the  lonely  tower 
with  the  child,  and  was  allowed  to  live  as  long 
as'  the  child  lived  —  no  longer. 

The  child  was  only  a  little  boy,  with  a  sweet, 
sleepy  smile  —  he  had  been  very  tired  with  his 
long  journey  —  and  clinging  arms,  which  held 
tight  to  the  man's  neck,  for  he  was  rather  fright- 
ened, and  the  face,  black  as  it  was,  looked  kindly 
at  him.  He  was  very  helpless,  too,  with  his  poor, 
small,  shrivelled  legs,  which  could  neither  stand 
nor  run  away. 


^  69  8«- 

This  forlorn  little  boy  was  Prince  Dolor,  and  he 
was  being  sent  away  from  home  under  the  charge 
of  the  woman  and  the  black  man.  The  latter  was 
deaf  and  dumb,  so  he  could  neither  tell  nor  repeat 
anything. 

When  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  tower,  there 
was  light  enough  to  see  a  huge  chain  dangling 
from  the  parapet,  but  dangling  only  half  way. 
The  deaf-mute  took  from  his  saddle-bag  a  ladder, 
arranged  in  pieces  like  a  puzzle,  fitted  it  together, 
and  lifted  it  up  to  meet  the  chain. 

Then  he  mounted  to  the  top  of  the  tower,  and 
slung  from  it  a  chair,  in  which  the  woman  and  the 
child  placed  themselves  and  were  drawn  up,  never 
to  come  down  again  as  long  as  they  lived.  Leav- 
ing them  there,  the  man  descended  the  ladder, 
took  it  to  pieces  again  and  placed  it  in  his  pack, 
mounted  his  horse,  and  disappeared  across  the 
plain. 

Every  month  they  used  to  watch  for  him, 
appearing  like  a  speck  in  the  distance.  He 
fastened  his  horse  to  the  foot  of  the  tower  and 
climbed  it  as  before,  laden  with  provisions  and 
many  other  things.     He  always  saw  the  Prince, 


-«  70  3«- 


to  make  sure  that  the 
child  was  alive  and  well, 
and  then  he  went  away 
until  the  following  month. 
While  his  first  child- 
hood lasted,  Prince  Dolor 
was  happy  enough.  He 
had  every  luxury  that  even 
a  prince  could  need,  and 
his  nurse  was  very  kind  to 
him. 

He  played  about  from 
room  to  room ;  learned  to 
crawl  like  a  fly  and  to 
jump  like  a  frog,  and  to 
run  about  on  all-fours 
almost  as  fast  as  a  puppy. 
In  fact,  he  was  very  much 
like  a  puppy  or  kitten, — 
as  thoughtless  and  as 
merry. 

As  he  grew  older  he 
often  sat  at  the  windows  and  watched  the  sky 
above   and   the   ground   below,  with   the  storms 


^  71  8«- 


sweeping  over,  and  the  sunshine  coming  and 
going,  and  the  shadows  of  the  clouds  running 
races  across  the  barren  plain. 

By  and  by  he  began  to  learn  lessons,  and  as  he 
had  nothing  else  to  do,  he  got  on  very  rapidly. 
When  he  could  read,  he  spent  most  of  the  day 
with  the  books  which  the  man  brought  him,  books 
which  told  him  of  everything  in  the  outside  world, 
and  filled  him  with  a  desire  to  see  it. 

From  this  time  a  change  came  over  the  boy. 
He  began  to  look  sad  and  thin.  His  nurse  had 
been  forbidden  to  tell  him  anything  about  him- 
self, who  he  was,  or  what  he  might  have  been. 
He  knew  he  was  Prince  Dolor,  because  she  always 
called  him ''My  Prince,'^  and  ''Your  Royal  High- 
ness,'^ but  what  a  prince  was  he  had  not  the  least 
idea.  He  had  no  idea  of 
anything  in  the  world, 
except  what  he  found  in 
his  books. 

He  sat  one 
day  surround- 
ed by  them, 
having    built 


^  72  8«- 

them  up  around  him  like  a  castle  wall.  He  had 
been  reading  them  half  the  day,  but  feeling  all 
the  Avhile  that  to  read  about  things  which  you 
never  can  see  is  like  hearing  about  a  beautiful 
dinner  while  you  are  starving. 

''  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  some  cne  to  tell  me  about 
these  things!  some  one  that  would  be  fond  of 
me,''  he  said.  ''Yes,  I  wish  I  had  a  person,  a 
real  live  person,  who  would  be  fond  of  me  and 
kind  to  me.  Oh,  I  want  some  one  —  dreadfully, 
dreadfully ! '' 

As  he  spoke,  there  sounded  behind  him  a  slight 
tap-tap-tap,  as  of  a  stick  or  a  cane,  and  twisting 
himself  round,  he  saw — what  do  you  think  he 
saw? 

A  little  woman,  no  bigger  than  himself.  Her 
hair  was  gray,  and  her  dress  was  gray,  and  there 
was  a  gray  shadow  over  her  wherever  she  moved. 
But  she  had  the  sweetest  smile,  and  the  prettiest 
hands,  and  when  she  spoke,  it  was  in  the  softest 
voice  imaginable. 

''  My  dear  little  boy,''  she  said,  "  my  own  little 
boy,  I  could  not  come  to  you  until  you  had  said  you 
wanted  me ;  but  now  you  do  want  me,  here  I  am." 


-«  73  8<- 

'*  And  you  are  very  welcome,  madam/'  replied 
the  Prince,  trying  to  speak  politely,  as  princes 
always  did  in  books.  ''  I  am  exceedingly  obliged 
to  you.  May  I  ask  who  you  are?  Perhaps  my 
mother?  '^ 

"  No,"  said  the  visitor,  with  a  tender  smile. 
*'  No,  I  am  not  your  mother,  though  she  was  a 
dear  friend  of  mine ;  and  you  are  as  like  her  as 
you  can  be.'' 

"Will  you  tell  her  to  come  and  see  me,  then?  " 

"She  cannot;  but  I  dare  say  she  knows  all 
about  you.  And  she  loves  you  very  much  —  and 
so  do  I ;  and  I  wish  to  help  you  all  I  can.  I  am 
your  godmother." 

"  Hurrah !  "  cried  the  little  Prince ;  "  I  am  glad 
I  belong  to  you,  for  I  like  you  very  much.  Will 
you  come  and  play  with  me?  " 

So  they  sat  down  together  and  played.  By  and 
by  they  began  to  talk. 

"  Are  you  very  dull  here?  "  asked  the  little  old 
woman. 

"Not  particularly,  thank  you.  Godmother.  I 
have  plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  and  my  lessons  to 
do,  and  my  books  to  read  —  plenty  of  books." 


-«  74  6«- 

*'  And  you  want  nothing?  '^ 

^'  Nothing.  Yes  —  perhaps  —  if  you  please, 
Godmother,  could  you  bring  me  just  one  more 
thing  ?'^ 

''What  sort  of  thing?'' 

''  A  little  boy  to  play  with/' 

The  old  woman  looked  very  sad.  ^'  That  is  just 
the  thing  which  I  cannot  give  you,  but  I  will  give 
you  something  to  amuse  you  —  something  that 
will  take  you  wherever  you  wish  to  go,  and  show 
you  all  that  you  wish  to  see." 

''What  is  it?" 

"  A  travelling  cloak." 

When  the  Prince  heard  this  he  looked  very 
sad.  "I  don't  want  a  cloak,"  he  said,  "for  I 
never  go  out.  I  can't  walk,  you  know,  but  I 
can  creep  and  hop.  Sometimes  nurse  lifts  me 
up  on  the  roof,  and  carries  me  round  the  para- 
pet ;   but  that  is  all." 

"The  more  reason  why  you  should  ride,"  said 
his  godmother,  laying  the  cloak  down  beside  him. 
Then  she  kissed  him,  bade  him  "Good-by"  in  her 
sweet,  soft  voice,  and  left  him  as  she  had  found 
him,  sitting  among  his  books. 


-»8  75  8«- 


II.     THE   FLIGHT 

Prince  Dolor  took  the  cloak  and  began  to  untie 
the  knots,  when  something  strange  happened. 
The  cloak  began  to  undo  itself.  Slowly  unfolding, 
it  laid  itself  down  on  the  carpet,  a  rim  turned  up 
all  around  it,  and  it  grew  and  grew  until  it 
was  large  enough  for  one  person  to  sit  in  very 
comfortably. 

With  one  of  his 
active  leaps  the 
Prince  sprang  into 
the  middle  of  the 
cloak,  where  he  sat 
down,  wrapped  his 
arms  round  his  knees, 
and  waited  to  see  what  would 
happen  next. 

In  a  moment  the  cloak  rose, 
slowly  and  steadily,  till  it 
nearly  touched  the  skylight.  Prince  Dolor's 
head  would  have  bumped  against  the  glass  if  he 
had  not  put  up  his  hands  and  opened  the  skylight. 

The  minute  the  window  was  opened,  the  cloak 


^  76  8«- 

sailed  out  into  the  clear,  fresh  air,  with  nothing 
between  it  and  the  cloudless  blue  sky. 

Prince  Dolor  had  never  felt  such  a  delightful 
sensation  before.  I  can  understand  it.  Cannot 
you?  Did  you  never  think,  while  watching  the 
birds  in  their  flight  across  the  evening  sky,  how 
pleasant  it  must  feel  to  be  up  there,  able  to  hear 
and  see  everything  below? 

Something  like  this  was  the  happiness  of  the 
little  lame  Prince  when  he  left  the  Hopeless  Tower, 
and  found  himself,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  pure 
open  air,  with  the  sky  above  him  and  the  earth 
below. 

The  happy  little  fellow,  floating  in  the  air  in  his 
magic  cloak,  saw  all  sorts  of  wonderful  things  — 
or  they  seemed  wonderful  to  him,  who  had 
hitherto  seen  nothing  at  all. 

First,  there  were  the  flowers  that  grew  on  the 
plain,  and,  whenever  the  cloak  came  near  enough, 
he  strained  his  eyes  to  look  at  them ;  they  were 
tiny,  but  very  beautiful. 

''  I  wonder, '^  thought  the  Prince,  ''  whether  I 
could  see  better  through  a  pair  of  glasses  like 
those  my  nurse  reads  with.'' 


-^  77  8«- 

Immediately  he  felt  something  queer  and  hard 
fixing  itself  to  the  bridge  of  his  nose.  It  was  a 
pair  of  the  prettiest  gold  spectacles  ever  seen,  and 
looking  downward,  he  could  see  every  blade  of 
grass,  every  tiny  bud  and  flower  —  nay,  even  the 
insects  that  walked  over  them. 

''  Thank  you,  thank  you ! ''  he  cried,  hoping  that 
his  dear  godmother,  who  he  felt  sure  had  given 
him  this  new  present,  would  hear  him. 

He  amused  himself  for  a  long  time  with  the 
glasses,  gazing  down  upon  the  grass  and  flowers. 

Then,  just  to  rest  his  eyes,  he  turned  them  up 
to  the  sky  —  the  blue,  bright,  empty  sky  which 
he  had  looked  at  so  often  and  seen  nothing. 

Now  surely  there  was  something.  A  long, 
black  wavy  line  moving  in  the  distance,  not  as 
the  clouds  move,  but  as  if  it  were  alive.  Looking 
at  it  through  his  spectacles,  he  soon  discovered 
that  it  really  was  alive ;  being  a  long  string  of 
birds,  flying  one  after  the  other  toward  the  south. 

"They  must  be  birds  of  passage,^'  cried  the 
boy,  who  had  read  a  little  about  them  in  his 
books.  "  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  see  them  quite 
close,  and  to  know  where  they  are  going !  '^ 


-^  78  8«- 


THE    LITTLE    LAME    PRINCE 


^  79  8«- 

At  once  the  cloak  gave  a  bound  forward,  and 
presently  he  found  himself  high  in  the  air,  in  the 
very  middle  of  that  band  of  travellers  who  had 
no  magic  cloak  to  travel  on  —  nothing  but  their 
wings. 

''  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  going  with  you,  you  lovely 
creatures,^^  cried  the  little  boy.  '^Fm  getting  so 
tired  of  this  dull  plain,  and  the  dreary  and  lonely 
tower.  Pretty  swallows,  dear  swallows!  tell  me 
what  it  looks  like  —  the  beautiful,  wonderful 
world  !'^ 

But  the  swallows  flew  past  him  silently  and 
slowly;  and  the  child  looked  after  them  with 
envy.  For  a  long  time  he  followed  with  his  eyes 
the  faint  black  line  as  it  floated  away.  Then  he 
settled  himself  down  in  the  centre  of  the  cloak, 
feeling  sad  and  lonely. 

*' Oh,  Godmother!^'  he  said  at  last;  **dear 
Godmother,  all  these  things  that  I  have  seen  I 
like  very  much,  but  I  should  like  better  to  see 
some  one  like  myself.  Couldn't  you  show  me  just 
one  little  boy?'' 

There  was  a  sigh  behind  him,  —  it  might  have 
been  the  wind,  —  and  the  cloak  remained  so  long 


^  80  8«- 

motionless  in  the  air  that  he  was  afraid  his  god- 
mother had  forgotten  him.  Suddenly  a  shrill 
whistle  startled  him,  and  looking  down  he  saw 
something  —  neither  a  sheep  nor  a  horse  nor  a 
cow  —  nothing  upon  four  legs. 

This  creature  had  only  two ;  but  they  were  long, 
straight,  and  strong.  And  it  had  an  active  body, 
and  a  curly  head  of  black  hair  set  upon  its 
shoulders.  It  was  a  boy,  a  shepherd-boy,  about 
the  Prince's  own  age  —  but,  oh!  so  different. 

As  the  Prince  looked,  the  boy  stretched  himself, 
for  he  had  been  half  asleep,  while  his  dog,  who 
had  been  guarding  the  sheep,  began  to  jump  upon 
him  and  bark  with  delight. 

**Down,  Snap,  down!  Let's  warm  ourselves 
with  a  race,''  the  Prince  heard  him  say. 

They  started  off  together,  boy  and  dog  —  shout- 
ing and  barking,  till  it  was  doubtful  which  made 
the  most  noise  or  ran  the  fastest.  And  what  a 
pleasure  it  seemed  to  both  of  them ! 

How  the  boy  skimmed  along  the  ground,  his 
cheeks  glowing,  and  his  hair  flying,  and  his  legs  — 
oh,  what  a  pair  of  legs  he  had ! 

Prince  Dolor  watched  him  for  a  while,  and  then 


^  81  8«- 

his  pale  face  grew  paler,  his  lips  began  to  quiver, 
and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"How  nice  it  must  be  to  run  like  that!^'  he 
said  softly,  thinking  that  never  —  no,  never  — 
would  he  be  able  to  do  the  same.  ''  I  think  I 
would  rather  not  look  at  him  again,  ^^  and  he  drew 
himself  back  into  the  centre  of  his  cloak  and  took 
off  his  gold  spectacles. 

He  sat  a  long  time  thus,  or  it  seemed  a  long 
time  to  him,  when  suddenly  through  the  silence, 
up  from  below,  there  rose  a  delightful  sound. 

It  was  the  song  of  a  skylark,  mounting  higher 
and  higher  from  the  ground,  till  it  came  so  close 
that  Prince  Dolor  could  distinguish  its  quivering 
wings  and  tiny  body. 

*'  Oh,  you  beautiful,  beautiful  bird !  ^'  cried  he ; 
''I  should  dearly  like  to  take  you  in  and  cuddle 
you.     That  is,  if  I  could,  if  I  dared.  ^' 

The  lark  soared  and  soared,  and  the  Prince 
forgot  all  his  sadness  and  pain,  everything  in  the 
world  except  the  lark.  He  was  just  wondering  if 
it  would  soar  out  of  sight  and  what  he  should  do 
when  it  was  gone,  when  it  folded  its  wings  and 
dropped  right  into  his  hand. 


-«  82  8«- 

How  happy  the  Prince  was  now !  He  had 
something  that  no  one  else  had,  something  all 
his  own !  As  the  cloak  travelled  on,  the  little 
lark  hopped  from  his  hand  to  his  shoulder  and 
kissed  him  with  its  dainty  beak  as  if  it  loved  him. 

When  he  came  in  sight  of  Hopeless  Tower,  a 
painful  thought  came  to  him.  "  My  pretty  bird,'' 
he  said,  "what  am  I  to  do  with  you?  If  I  take 
you  into  my  room  and  shut  you  up  there,  what 
will  become  of  you  ?  No,  my  dear  bird,  I  will  not 
keep  you  shut  up  in  the  tower ;  I  would  rather  do 
without  you  altogether.  Fly  away,  my  beautiful 
bird.     Good-by,  my  merry,  merry  bird.'' 

Opening  his  two  hands,  he  let  the  lark  go. 
It  perched  on  the  rim  of  the  cloak  a  moment, 
then  away  it  flew,  far  up  into  the  blue  sky. 

But  when  Prince  Dolor  had  eaten  his  supper 
and  gone  quietly  to  bed,  he  heard  outside  the 
window  a  faint  carol. 

The  dear  little  lark!  It  had  not  flown  away, 
after  all.  It  hovered  about  the  tower  all  night, 
and,  whenever  he  listened,  he  heard  it  singing. 

That  night  the  little  Prince  went  to  sleep  as 
happy  as  a  king.  _p,^^,  mulock  craik. 


^  83  8«- 


^  LAUGHING   SONG 


When  the  green  woods  laugh  with  the  voice  of  joy, 
And  the  dimpling  stream  runs  laughing  by, 
When  the  air  does  laugh  with  our  merry  wit, 
And  the  green  hill  laughs  with  the  noise  of  it ; 

When  the  meadows  laugh  w^ith  lively  green. 
And  the  grasshopper  laughs  in  the  merry  scene ; 
When  Mary  and  Susan  and  Emily 
With  their  sweet  round  mouths  sing,  ''  Ha,  ha,  he!  " 

When  the  painted  birds  laugh  in  the  shade, 
When  our  table  with  cherries  and  nuts  is  spread : 
Come  live,  and  be  merry,  and  join  with  me 
To  sing  the  sweet  chorus  of  ''  Ha,  ha,  he  !  '^ 

—  William  Blake. 


-^  84  S«- 


SONG 


I  had  a  dove  and  the  sweet  dove  died ; 

And  I  have  thought  it  died  of  grieving : 

Oh,  what  could  it  grieve  for?     Its  feet  were  tied 

With  a  silken  thread  of  my  own  hands'  weaving. 

Sweet  little  red  feet !  why  should  you  die  — 

Why  would  you  leave  me,  sweet  bird  !  why  ? 

You  lived  alone  in  the  forest-tree ; 

Why,  pretty  thing !  would  you  not  live  with  me  ? 

I  kissed  you  oft  and  gave  you  white  peas ; 

Why  not  live  sweetly,  as  in  the  green  trees  ? 

—  John  Keats. 


-«  85  6«- 


car'ni  v^l 
car'a  van 
co'co^  nut 
be  hav'ior 
m^^s'uring 


JACKANAPES 

som'er  sa]ilt 
dis  pos^d' 
shirimg 
rePic 
miri  tary 

I.      LOLLO 


rap'ttir^ 
whirri  gig 
spurned 
opportun'i  ty 
Wa'terloo 


Two  Donkeys  and  the  Geese  lived  on  the  Green, 
and  all  other  residents  of  any  social  standing 
lived  in  houses  around  it.  The  houses  had  no 
names.     Everybody's  address  was  ''The  Green,'' 


-«  86  8«- 

but  the  Postman  and  the  people  of  the  place 
knew  where  each  family  lived. 

As  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  what  has  one  to  do 
with  the  rest  of  the  world  when  he  is  safe  at 
home  on  his  own  Goose  Green?  Besides,  if  a 
stranger  did  come  on  any  business,  he  might  ask 
his  way  at  the  shop. 

Once  a  year  the  Goose  Green  became  the  scene 
of  a  carnival.  First  of  all,  carts  and  caravans 
were  rumbling  along,  day  and  night. 

Jackanapes  could  hear  them  as  he  lay  in  bed, 
and  could  hardly  sleep  for  wondering  what  booths 
and  whirligigs  he  should  find  when  he  and  his  dog 
Spitfire  went  out  after  breakfast. 

He  seldom  had  to  wait  so  long,  however,  for 
news  of  the  Fair.  The  Postman  knew  the  win- 
dow out  of  which  Jackanapes^  yellow  head  would 
come,  and  was  ready  with  his  report. 

"  Koyal  Theatre,  Master  Jackanapes,  in  the  old 
place,  but  be  careful  of  the  seats,  sir;  they^re 
rickettier  than  ever.  Two  sweets  and  a  ginger 
beer  under  the  oak  tree,  and  the  Flying  Boats  are 
just  coming  along  the  road.  ^^ 

The  Gray  Goose  always  ran  away  at  the  first 


-«  87  »- 

approach  of  the  caravans,  and  never  came  back 
to  the  Green  till  there  was  nothing  left  of  the 
Fair  but  footmarks  and  oyster-shells. 

Grass  soon  grew  over  the  footprints,  and  chil- 
dren took  the  oyster-shells  to  trim  their  gardens 
with  ;  but  one  year  there  remained  another  relic  of 
Fair-time  in  which  Jackanapes  was  very  much 
interested. 

'^The  Green '^  was  part  of  a  common,  where 
gypsies  sometimes  camped,  especially  after  the 
Fair.  And  it  was  after  the  Fair  that  Jackanapes, 
out  rambling  by  himself,  was  knocked  over  by  the 
gypsy^s  son  riding  the  gypsy's  red-haired  pony  at 
breakneck  pace  across  the  common. 

Jackanapes  got  up  and  shook  himself,  none  the 
worse  except  for  being  heels  over  head  in  love 
with  the  red-haired  pony.  What  a  rate  he  went 
at !  How  he  spurned  the  ground  with  his  nimble 
feet !  How  his  red  coat  shone  in  the  sunshine ! 
And  what  bright  eyes  peeped  out  of  his  dark  fore- 
lock as  it  was  blown  by  the  wind ! 

The  gypsy  boy  had  had  a  fright,  and  he  was 
willing  enough  to  reward  Jackanapes  for  not  hav- 
ing been  hurt,  by  allowing  him  to  have  a  ride. 


^  88  8«- 

''Do  you  mean  to  kill  the  little  gentleman?  '^ 
screamed  the  gypsy  mother,  who  came  up  just  as 
Jackanapes  and  the  pony  set  off. 

''  He  would  get  on/^  replied  her  son.  ''  It'll  not 
kill  him.  He'll  fall  on  his  yellow  head,  and  it's 
tough  as  a  cocoanut." 

But  Jackanapes  did  not  fall.  He  stuck  to  the 
red-haired  pony ;  and  oh,  the  delight  of  this  wild 
gallop  with  flesh  and  blood!  Just  as  his  legs 
were  beginning  to  feel  as  if  he  did  not  feel 
them,  the  gypsy  boy  cried,  ''LoUo!"  Bound 
went  the  pony  so  quickly  that  Jackanapes  had  to 
cling  to  his  neck,  and  did  not  recover  himself 
before  Lollo  stopped  where  they  had  started. 

"  Is  his  name  Lollo?  "  asked  Jackanapes. 

''Yes." 

"  What  does  Lollo  mean  ?  " 

"Red." 

"  Is  Lollo  your  pony?  " 

"No.  My  father's,"  and  the  gypsy  boy  led  Lollo 
away. 

At  the  first  opportunity  Jackanapes  stole  away 
again  to  the  common.  This  time  he  saw  the 
gypsy  father,  smoking  a  dirty  pipe. 


^  89  8«- 

'^LoUo  is  your  pony,  isn^t  he?'^  said  Jacka- 
napes. 

-Yes.'^ 

''  He's  a  very  nice  one.'' 

'*  He's  a  racer.'' 

''  You  don't  want  to  sell  him,  do  you? '' 

''  Fifteen  pounds,"  said  the  gypsy  father.  Jack- 
anapes sighed  and  went  home  again. 

A  few  days  later,  Miss  Jessamine  spoke  very 
seriously  to  Jackanapes.  She  told  him  that  his 
grandfather,  the  General,  was  coming  to  the 
Green,  and  that  he  must  be  on  his  very  best 
behavior  during  the  visit.  He  must  keep  his 
clothes  and  his  hands  clean,  not  put  sticky 
things  in  his  pockets,  keep  his  hair  smooth, 
not  burst  in  at  the  parlor  door,  and  not  talk  at 
the  top  of  his  voice.  He  must  be  sure  to  say 
"Sir"  to  the  General,  and  be  careful  about 
rubbing  his  shoes  on  the  door-mat. 

II.  jackanapes'  grandfather 

The  General  arrived;  and  for  the  first  day  all 
went  well.      Jackanapes  began  to  feel  more  at 


-«  90  9«- 

ease  with  his  grandfather,  and  disposed  to  talk 
with  him,  as  he  did  with  the  Postman.  All  that 
the  General  felt  it  would  take  too  long  to  tell ; 
but  he  was  disposed  to  talk  with  Jackanapes. 

"A  very  pretty  place, '^  he  said,  looking  out 
of  the  window  at  the  Green. 

''You  should  see  it  in  Fair-week,  sir,"  said 
Jackanapes,  shaking  his  yellow  hair,  as  he  leaned 
back  in  one  of  the  two  arm-chairs  in  which  they 
sat. 

"A  fine  time,  eh?"  said  the  General,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye. 

Jackanapes  shook  his  hair  once  more.  "I  en- 
joyed this  last  one  the  best  of  all,"  he  said;  "I 
had  so  much  money." 

"It's  not  a  common  complaint  in  these  bad 
times.     How  much  had  you?" 

"I  had  two  shillings.  A  new  shilling  aunty 
gave  me,  an  eleven  pence  I  had  saved  up,  and  a 
penny  from  the  Postman, — sir !  ^^  added  Jack- 
anapes with  a  jerk,  having  forgotten  it. 

"  And  now  I  suppose  you've  not  got  a  penny  in 
your  pocket,  sir?  "  inquired  the  General. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  said  Jackanapes.    "  Two  pennies. 


"^  yi  8*^ 


They  are  saving  up."  And  Jackanapes  jingled 
them  with  his  hand. 

''  You  don't  want  money  except  at  Fair-time,  I 
suppose?''  said  the  General. 

Jackanapes  shook  his  head. 

**If  I  could  have  as  much  as  I  want,  I  should 
know  what  to  buy,"  said  he. 

"  How  much  do  you  want,  if  you  could  get  it?  " 


*^  Wait  a  minute,  sir,  till  I  think  what  twopence 
from  fifteen  pounds  leaves.  Two  from  nothing 
you  can't,  but  borrow  twelve.  Two  from  twelve, 
ten,  and  carry  one.  Please  remember  ten,  sir, 
when  I  ask  you.  One  from  nothing  you  can't, 
borrow  twenty.  One  from  twenty,  nineteen,  and 
carry  one.  One  from  fifteen,  fourteen.  Fourteen 
pounds,  nineteen  and  —  what  did  I  tell  you  to 
remember?'' 

*'Ten,"  said  the  General. 

**  Fourteen  pounds,  nineteen  shillings  and  ten- 
pence,  then,  is  what  I  want,"  said  Jackanapes. 

"  What  do  you  want  all  that  money  for  ?  " 

"  To  buy  LoUo  with.  Lollo  means  red,  sir.  The 
gypsy's  red-haired  pony,  sir.  Oh,  he  is  beauti- 
ful !  You  should  see  his  coat  in  the  sunshine ! 
You  should  see  his  mane !  You  should  see  his 
tail !  Such  little  feet,  sir,  and  they  go  like  light- 
ning! But  he's  a  racer,  and  the  gypsy  wants 
fifteen  pounds  for  him." 

''If  he's  a  racer  you  couldn't  ride  him,  could 
you?'' 

''  No  —  0,  sir,  but  I  can  stick  to  him.  I  did  the 
other  day," 


"  Did  you !  Well,  Fm  fond  of  riding  myself ;  and 
if  the  beast  is  as  good  as  you  say,  lie  might  suit 
me/' 

''  You're  too  tall  for  LoUo,  I  think/'  said  Jack- 
anapes, measuring  his  grandfather  with  his  eye. 

**I  can  double  up  my  legs,  I  suppose.  We'll 
have  a  look  at  him  to-morrow." 

^* Don't  you  weigh  a  good  deal?  "  asked  Jacka- 
napes. 

''  Chiefly  waistcoats,"  said  the  General,  slapping 
the  breast  of  his  military  coat.  ''We'll  have  the 
little  racer  on  the  Green  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning.  Glad  you  mentioned  it.  Grandson ;  glad 
you  mentioned  it." 

The  General  was  as  good  as  his  word.  Next 
morning  the  gypsy  and  Lollo,  Miss  Jessamine, 
Jackanapes,  and  his  grandfather,  and  his  dog  Spit- 
fire, were  all  gathered  at  one  end  of  the  Green  in 
a  group.  This  so  aroused  the  curiosity  of  Mrs. 
Johnson,  as  she  saw  it  from  one  of  her  upper 
windows,  that  she  and  the  children  took  their 
morning  walk  earlier  than  usual. 

The  General  talked  to  the  gypsy,  and  Jacka- 
napes fondled  Lollo' s  mane,  and  did  not  know 


-^  94  9«- 

whether  he  should  be  more  glad  or  sorry  if  his 
grandfather  bought  him. 

*' Jackanapes!'' 

^^Tes,  sir!'' 

''I've  bought  Lollo,  but  I  believe  you  were 
right.  He  hardly  stands  high  enough  for  me.  If 
you  can  ride  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  Green, 
I'll  give  him  to  you." 

How  Jackanapes  tumbled  on  to  Lollo' s  back  he 
never  knew.  He  had  just  gathered  up  the  reins 
when  the  gypsy  father  took  him  by  the  arm. 

"If  you  want  to  make  Lollo  go  fast,  my  little 
gentleman  —  " 

''I  can  make  him  go!"  said  Jackanapes,  and 
drawing  from  his  pocket  a  trumpet  he  had  bought 
at  the  Fair,  he  blew  a  blast  both  loud  and  shrill. 

Away  went  Lollo,  and  away  went  Jackanapes' 
hat.  His  golden  hair  flew  out,  and  his  cheeks 
shone  red.  Away  went  Spitfire,  mad  with  the 
rapture  of  the  race  and  the  wind  in  his  silky  ears. 
Away  went  the  geese,  the  cocks,  the  hens,  and  the 
whole  family  of  Johnson.  Lucy  clung  to  her 
mamma,  Jane  saved  Emily  by  the  gathers  of  her 
gown,  and  Tony  saved  himself  by  a  somersault. 


-98  95  8«- 

The  Gray  Goose  was  just  returning  when  Jacka- 
napes and  Lollo  rode  back,  Spitfire  panting  behind. 

''  Good,  my  little  gentleman,  good !  '^  said  the 
gypsy.  ^'Tou  were  born  to  the  saddle.  All  you 
want  is  to  learn  the  whisper.     Come  here !  '' 

*'What  was  that  fellow  talking  about,  Grand- 
son ?  '^  asked  the  General,  an  hour  later,  when  they 
were  sitting  in  the  window  in  two  arm-chairs. 

*'I  can^t  tell  you,  sir.     It's  a  secret.'' 

**You  must  love  your  aunt  very  much,  Jacka- 
napes?" 

*'I  do,  sir,"  said  Jackanapes,  warmly. 

''  And  whom  do  you  love  next  best  to  your  aunt  ?  " 

Jackanapes  answered  quite  readily,  ''The  Post- 
man." 

"Why  the  Postman?" 

"He  knew  my  father,"  said  Jackanapes,  "and 
he  tells  me  about  him  and  about  his  black  mare. 
My  father  was  a  soldier,  a  brave  soldier.  He  died 
at  Waterloo.  When  I  grow  up  I  want  to  be  a 
soldier,  too." 
'    "So  you  shall,  my  boy;  so  you  shall." 

"  Thank  you,  Grandfather.  Aunty  doesn't  want 
me  to  be  a  soldier,  for  fear  of  being  killed." 


.  **  Would  she  have  you  get  into  a  feather-bed 
and  stay  there?  Why,  you  might  be  killed  by  a 
thunderbolt,  if  you  were  a  butter  merchant !  '^ 

*/So  I  might.  I  shall  tell  her  so.  What  a 
funny  fellow  you  are,  sir!  Do  you  think  my 
father  knew  the  gypsy^s  secret?  The  Postman 
says  he  used  to  whisper  to  his  black  mare.'' 


■^  ^ri  •••■■''': 


"Tour  father  was  taught  to  ride,  as  a  child,  by 
one  of  those  horsemen  of  the  East  who  swoop 
and  dart  and  wheel  about  a  plain  like  swallows 
in  autumn.     Grandson !    love  me  a  little,  too.     I 


-^  91  Q^ 

can  tell  you  more  about  your  father  than  the 
Postman  can/^ 

"I  do  love  you/'  said  Jackanapes.  ^' I  love  you 
very  much,  and  I  will  try  to  be  very  good.  But  I 
should  like  to  be  a  soldier. '^ 

''You  shall,  my  boy;  you  shall.  And  if  you 
live  to  be  an  honor  to  your  country,  this  old  heart 
shall  grow  young  again  with  pride  for  you ;  and 
if  you  die  in  the  service  of  your  country  —  well, 
sir,  it  can  but  break  for  you ! '' 

—  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 


DUTY 

So  nigh  is  grandeur  to  our  dust, 

So  near  is  God  to  man. 
When  Duty  whispers  low,  "Thou  must," 

The  youth  replies,  "  I  can.'' 

—  RALt>H  Waldo  Emerson. 


-«  98  8«- 


HIAWATHA'S    BROTHERS 


-^  99  8«- 

HIAWATHA'S   CHILDHOOD 

By  the  shores  of  Gitchee  Gumee, 
By  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood  the  wigwam  of  Nokomis, 
Daughter  of  the  Moon,  Nokomis. 
Dark  behind  it  rose  the  forest, 
Kose  the  black  and  gloomy  pine-trees, 
Kose  the  firs  with  cones  upon  them ; 
Bright  before  it  beat  the  water. 
Beat  the  clear  and  sunny  water. 
Beat  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water. 

There  the  wrinkled,  old  Nokomis 
Nursed  the  little  Hiawatha, 
Eocked  him  in  his  linden  cradle ; 
Stilled  his  fretful  wail  by  saying, 
''  Hush !  the  Naked  Bear  will  get  thee! '' 
Lulled  him  into  slumber,  singing, 
''  Ewa-yea !  my  little  owlet ! 
Who  is  this,  that  lights  the  wigwam  ? 
With  his  great  eyes  lights  the  wigwam  ? 
Ewa-yea !  my  little  owlet !  '^ 

Many  things  Nokomis  taught  him 
Of  the  stars  that  shine  in  heaven  ; 


-^  100  8«- 

Showed  him  Ishkoodah,  the  comet, 

Ishkoodah,  with  fiery  tresses ; 

Showed  the  Death-Dance  of  the  spirits, 

Warriors  with  their  plumes  and  war-chibs, 

Flaring  far  away  to  northward 

In  the  frosty  nights  of  Winter ; 

Showed  the  broad,  white  road  in  heaven, 

Pathway  of  the  ghosts,  the  shadows. 

Running  straight  across  the  heavens. 

Crowded  'with  the  ghosts,  the  shadows. 

At  the  door  on  summer  evenings 
Sat  the  little  Hiawatha, 
Heard  the  whispering  of  the  pine-trees, 
Heard  the  lapping  of  the  water. 
Sounds  of  music,  words  of  wonder ; 
''  Minne-wawa !  '^  said  the  pine-trees, 
*'  Mudway-aushka ! ''  said  the  water. 

Saw  the  fire-fly,  Wah-wah-taysee, 
Flitting  through  the  dusk  of  evening, 
With  the  twinkle  of  its  candle 
Lighting  up  the  brakes  and  bushes ; 
And  he  sang  the  song  of  children, 
Sang  the  song  Nokomis  taught  him : 
"  Wah-wah-taysee,  little  fire-fly, 


-^  101 9«-  >^;.  ;V  ;  v\ 

Little,  flitting,  white-fire  insect,^  /A  I/:  V  \. 

Little,  dancing,  white-fire  creature, 

Light  me  with  your  little  candle, 

Ere  upon  my  bed  I  lay  me. 

Ere  in  sleep  I  close  my  eyelids  !  '^ 

Saw  the  moon  rise  from  the  water 
Rippling,  rounding  from  the  water. 
Saw  the  flecks  and  shadows  on  it, 
Whispered,  ''  What  is  that,  Nokomis?  '^ 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered : 
**  Once  a  warrior,  very  angry, 
Seized  his  grandmother,  and  threw  her 
Up  into  the  sky  at  midnight ; 
Right  against  the  moon  he  threw  her ; 
'Tis  her  body  that  you  see  there/' 

Saw  the  rainbow  in  the  heaven, 
In  the  eastern  sky  the  rainbow. 
Whispered,  ^' What  is  that,  Nokomis?'' 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered : 
**  'Tis  the  heaven  of  flowers  you  see  there 
All  the  wild-flowers  of  the  forest. 
All  the  lilies  of  the  prairie. 
When  on  earth  they  fade  and  perish, 
Blossom  in  that  heaven  above  us.'' 


-^  102  8€- 

•.  i^.iYv'hen  he  heard  the  owls  at  midnight, 
Hooting,  laughing  in  the  forest, 
*^  What  is  that?  '^  he  cried,  in  terror; 
**What  is  that,''  he  said,  '^Nokorais? '' 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered  • 
''  That  is  but  the  owl  and  owlet. 
Talking  in  their  native  language, 
Talking,  scolding  at  each  other." 

Then  the  little  Hiawatha 
Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  they  built  their  nests  in  Summer, 
Where  they  hid  themselves  in  Winter, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "  Hiawatha's  Chickens." 

Of  all  beasts  he  learned  the  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  the  beavers  built  their  lodges, 
Where  the  squirrels  hid  their  acorns. 
How  the  reindeer  ran  so  swiftly. 
Why  the  rabbit  was  so  timid. 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  ''Hiawatha's  Brothers." 

—  Hbnry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 


-^  103  8«- 


har'nes  sing 
ste^d'ily 
in'jury 
m  ten'dmg 


ROLLO   AT   WORK 

plat'form 
po  si'tion 
pas'ttir^ 
se'ri  citis 


reg'tilarly 
bruised 
un  liick'i  ly 
won'der^d 


Rollo  went  into  the  yard  one  morning,  and 
found  his  father  just  getting  into  the  wagon  to  go 
away.  Jonas  stood  by  the  horse,  having  just  fin- 
ished harnessing  him. 

*'  Father/'  said  Rollo,  '^I  can  work.    You  thought 


-^  104  8«- 

I  could  not  work,  but  I  can.  I  am  going  to  work 
to-day  while  you  are  gone/' 

"Are  you?''  said  his  father.  "Very  well;  I 
shall  be  glad  to  have  you." 

"  What  would  you  like  to  have  me  do?  " 

"  Oh,  you  may  pick  up  chips,"  said  his  father, 
"  or  you  may  pile  that  short  wood  in  the  shed." 

When  his  father  had  gone,  Rollo  went  into  the 
house  for  a  basket.  His  mother  gave  him  one, 
which  he  said  was  just  big  enough,  and  he  went 
out  into  the  yard  to  begin  his  work. 

He  sat  down  on  the  chips,  and  began  picking 
them  up  and  throwing  them  into  his  basket.  He 
soon  filled  it,  and  emptied  it  into  the  bin ;  then 
he  began  to  fill  it  again. 

When  he  got  the  basket  nearly  full  the  second 
time,  he  thought  he  was  tired,  and  that  it  would 
be  a  good  plan  to  take  a  rest ;  and  he  would  go 
and  see  Jonas  a  little  while. 

"Well,  Rollo,"  said  Jonas,  "how  do  you  get 
along  with  your  work?  " 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  said  Rollo ;  "  I  have  been  pick- 
ing up  chips  all  the  time  since  I  went  away  from 
you." 


-^  105  B^ 

^'  And  how  many  have  you  got  in  ?  '^  said  Jonas. 

'  Guess,"  said  Rollo. 

''  Six  basketfuls/'  said  Jonas. 

"No,"  said  Rollo. 

''Eight." 

''No;  not  so  many." 

"How  many  then?"  said  Jonas,  who  began  to 
be  tired  of  guessing. 

"  Two ;  that  is,  I  have  got  one  in,  and  the  other 
is  almost  full." 

"Only  two?"  said  Jonas.  "Then  you  cannot 
have  worked  very  steadily.  Come  here,  and  I  will 
show  you  how  to  work." 

Jonas  walked  along  to  the  chips,  and  asked 
Rollo  to  fill  his  basket  and  carry  it,  and  then 
come  back,  and  he  would  tell  him. 

Rollo  filled  the  basket,  carried  it  to  the  bin, 
and  came  back  very  soon.  Jonas  told  him  to 
fill  it  again  as  full  as  it  was  before. 

"There,"  said  Jonas,  when  it  was  done,  "now 
it  is  as  full  as  the  other  was,  and  I  think  you 
have  been  less  than  two  minutes  in  doing  it. 
We  will  call  it  two  minutes.  Two  minutes  for 
each  basketful  would  make  thirty  basketfuls  in 


-^  106  »- 


an  hour.  I  don't  think  there  are  more  than 
thirty  basketfuls  in  all ;  so  that,  if  you  work 
steadily,  you  would  get  them  all  into  the  bin  in 
an  hour.'' 

''  In  an  hour?  "  said  Kollo.     ''  Could  I  get  them 
all  in  in  an  hour?  " 

''  Yes,"  said  Jonas,  ''I  have  no  doubt  you  can." 
Then  he  went  to  the  field,  leav- 
ing  Rollo    to 
h^'^     go    on    with 
his  thirty  bas- 
kets.    Rollo 
thought      it 
would  be  a  fine 
thing  to  get  the 
chips  all   in   be- 
fore   his    father 


^'   '    should   come   home 


^^  •   and  he  went  to  work 
very   busily,    filling 
his  basket  the  third  time. 

''I  can  do  it  quicker,"  said  he  to  himself.  ''I 
can  fill  the  basket  a  great  deal  faster  than  that. 
I  will  get  it  all  done  in  half  an  hour." 


-^  107  Q^ 

Before  he  had  picked  up  many  chips,  however, 
he  happened  to  think  that  the  wheelbarrow  would 
be  a  better  thing  to  get  them  in  with.  ''Men 
always  use  a  wheelbarrow/'  he  said  to  himself, 
"  and  why  should  not  I?  '' 

So  he  turned  the  chips  out  of  his  basket,  and 
went  after  the  wheelbarrow.  He  thought  he 
would  take  a  big  load  in  it,  and  so  he  filled  it 
almost  full.  Then  he  took  hold  of  the  handles, 
and  tried  to  lift  it.  He  found  it  very  heavy.  He 
tried  again  and  succeeded  in  raising  it  from  the 
ground  a  little;  but  unluckily,  as  wheelbarrows 
are  apt  to  do  when  the  load  is  too  heavy  for  the 
workman,  it  tipped  down  to  one  side,  and  though 
Rollo  used  all  his  strength  to  save  it,  it  was  in 
vain. 

Over  went  the  wheelbarrow,  and  about  half  of 
the  chips  were  poured  out  upon  the  ground  again. 

"  Oh  dear ! ''  said  EoUo ;  "  I  wish  this  wheel- 
barrow were  not  so  heavy.'' 

After  a  few  minutes  he  tipped  the  wheelbarrow 
back,  which  he  could  easily  do  now  that  the  load 
was  half  out,  and  thought  he  would  wheel  those 
chips  along,  and  take  the  rest  next  time. 


-^  108  8«- 

He  wheeled  the  load  along  until  he  came  to  the 
edge  of  the  platform  which  was  before  the  shed 
door,  where  he  was  to  carry  in  his  chips.  Of 
course  he  could  not  get  the  wheel  up  such  a  high 
step ;  so  he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  platform, 
not  knowing  what  to  do  next. 

''  I  will  not  pick  up  chips  any  more.  I  will  pile 
the  wood,^^  he  said  to  himself.  '*  Father  told  me 
that  I  might  either  pick  up  chips  or  pile  the  wood. 
I  shall  not  have  anything  to  carry  or  to  wheel  at 
all,  and  it  will  be  much  easier.^' 

So  he  left  his  wheelbarrow  where  it  was,  at  the 
edge  of  the  platform,  intending  to  ask  Jonas  to 
get  it  up  for  him  when  he  should  come  home. 

He  went  into  the  shed,  and  began  to  pile  the 
wood.  It  was  feome  very  short,  small  wood,  pre- 
pared for  a  stove  in  his  mother's  chamber,  and  he 
knew  where  his  father  wished  to  have  it  piled  — 
back  against  the  side  of  the  shed,  near  where  the 
wood  was  lying.  Jonas  had  thrown  it  there  in  a 
heap  as  he  had  sawed  and  split  it. 

He  began  to  lay  the  wood  regularly  upon  the 
ground  where  his  pile  was  to  be,  and  for  a  few 
minutes  worked  very  busily. 


^  109  8^ 

Soon  Jonas  came  in.  "  How  do  you  get  along 
with  your  chips?  '^  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  not  very  well.  I  want  you  to  help  me  get 
the  wheelbarrow  up  on  the  platform.  ^^ 

''The  wheelbarrow!  ^'  said  Jonas.  "Are  you 
doing  it  with  the  wheelbarrow?  ^' 

"  No,  I  am  not  picking  up  chips  now  at  all.  I 
am  piling  wood.     I  did  have  the  wheelbarrow.^^ 

Just  then  the  cow  walked  through  the  yard  and 
out  of  the  gate  into  the  field,  and  Jonas  said  he 
must  go  at  once  to  drive  her  into  the  pasture,  and 
put  up  the  fence,  so  he  could  not  stop  to  help 
Eollo  about  the  chips ;  but  he  would  look  in  and 
see  if  he  was  piling  the  wood  right. 

"That  will  do  very  well,'^  said  he,  "only  you 
must  put  the  biggest  ends  of  the  sticks  outward, 
or  it  will  tumble  down.'' 

Rollo  piled  a  little  more,  and  as  he  piled  he 
wondered  what  Jonas  meant  by  telling  him  to  put 
the  largest  ends  outward.  He  took  up  a  stick 
and  laid  it  on  both  ways,  first  with  the  big  end 
against  the  side  of  the  shed,  then  with  it  in  front. 

He  did  not  see  but  that  the  stick  lay  as  steadily 
in  one  position  as  in  the  other. 


-^  110  8«- 

'*  Jonas  was  mistaken/'  said  he.  ''  It  is  better 
to  put  the  big  ends  back.  Then  they  are  out  of 
sight,  and  the  pile  looks  handsomer.'' 

So  he  went  on,  putting  the  sticks  upon  the  pile 
with  the  biggest  ends  back  against  the  shed.  By 
this  means  the  back  side  of  the  pile  began  soon  to 
be  the  highest,  and  the  wood  slanted  forward,  so 
as  to  be  quite  unsteady. 

RoUo  could  not  imagine  what  made  his  pile  act 
so.  He  thought  he  would  put  on  one  stick  more, 
and  then  leave  it.  But,  as  he  was  putting  on  the 
stick,  he  found  that  the  whole  pile  was  very  un- 
steady. He  put  his  hand  upon  it,  and  shook  it  a 
little,  to  see  if  it  were  going  to  fall,  when  he  found 
it  was  coming  upon  him. 

As  he  stepped  suddenly  back,  he  tumbled  over 
the  wood  which  was  lying  on  the  ground,  and  a 
large  part  of  the  pile  came  down  upon  him. 

He  screamed  out  with  fright  and  pain,  for  he 
bruised  himself  a  little  in  falling. 

That  evening,  when  his  father  came  home,  Rollo 
said,  '' Father,  you  were  right,  after  all;  I  donH 
know  how  to  work." 

—  Jacob  Abbott. 


-^  111  8e- 


BIRD   SONGS 


Do  you  ask  what  the  birds  say?     The  sparrow, 

the  dove, 
The  linnet,  and  thrush  say  *^I  love,  and  I  love!  '^ 
In  the  winter  they^re  silent,  the  wind  is  so  strong; 
What  it  says  I  don^t  know,  but  it  sings  a  loud 

song. 
But  green  leaves,  and  blossoms,  and  sunny  warm 

weather. 
And  singing  and  loving  —  all  come  back  together. 
But  the  lark  is  so  brimful  of  gladness  and  love. 
The  green  fields  below  him,  the  blue  sky  above. 
That  he  sings,  and  he  sings,  and  forever  sings  he, 
''I  love  my  Love,  and  my  Love  loves  me.^^ 

—Samuel  Taylor  CoLERrooB. 


■^  112  8«- 


TOM,   THE  WATER-BABY 


drag'gn-fly 

there'for^ 

tor'rent 

doz'ing 

bur'ro^s 


ter'ri  er 
dis  con  ten'ted 
quar'rel  soin^ 
Chesh'ir^ 

thou'sandth 

J." 

I.    IN   THE   RIVER 


ad  ven'tur0 
sajm'on 
com  pan'ions 
thun'der-storm 


One  day  Tom  had  a  new 
adventure.  He  was  sitting 
on  a  water-lily  leaf,  he  and 
his  friend  the  dragon-fly, 
watching  the  gnats  dance. 
The  dragon-fly  had  eaten  as 
many  as  he  wanted,  and  was 
sitting  quite  still  and  sleepy, 
for  it  was  very  hot  and  bright. 

The  gnats  danced  a  foot 
over  his  head  quite  happily, 
and  a  large  black  fly  settled 
within  an  inch  of  his  nose 
and  began  washing  his  own 
face  and  combing  his  hair  with  his  paws.    But  the 


-^  113  8«- 

dragon-fly  never  stirred,  and  kept  on  chatting  to 
Tom  about  the  times  when  he  lived  under  the  water. 

Suddenly  Tom  heard  the  strangest  noise  up  the 
stream.  He  looked  up  the  water,  and  there  he 
saw  a  sight  as  strange  as  the  noise ;  a  great  ball 
rolling  over  and  over  down  the  stream,  seeming 
one  moment  of  soft  brown  fur,  and  the  next  of 
shining  glass. 

Yet  it  was  not  a  ball ;  for  sometimes  it  broke 
up  and  streamed  away  into  pieces,  and  then  it 
joined  again  ;  and  all  the  while  the  noise  came  out 
of  it  louder  and  louder. 

Tom  asked  the  dragon-fly  what  it  could  be ;  but 
of  course,  with  his  short  sight,  he  could  not  even 
see  it,  though  it  was  not  ten  yards  away.  So  Tom 
started  off  to  see  for  himself ;  and  when  he  came 
near,  the  ball  turned  out  to  be  four  or  five  beauti- 
ful otters,  many  times  larger  than  Tom,  who  were 
swimming  about,  and  rolling  and  diving,  and 
twisting  and  scratching  in  the  most  charming 
fashion  that  ever  was  seen. 

But  when  the  biggest  of  them  saw  Tom,  she 
darted  out  from  the  rest,  and  cried  in  the  water- 
language  sharply  enough,  ''  Quick,  children,  here  is 


^  114  8«- 


something  to  eat,  indeed ! ''  and  came  at  poor 
Tom,  showing  such  a  wicked  pair  of  eyes  and 
such  a  set  of  sharp  teeth  in  a  grinning  mouth, 


that  Tom,  who  had  thought  her  very  handsome, 
said  to  himself,  **  Handsome  is  that  handsome 
does,"  and  slipped  in  between  the  water-lily  roots 
as  fast  as  he  could,  and  then  turned  around  and 
laughed  at  her. 

**  Come  out,''  said  the  wicked  old  otter,  *'  or  it 
will  be  worse  for  you/' 

But  Tom  looked  at  her  from  between  two  thick 
roots,  and  shook  them  with  all  his  might. 


^  115  8«- 

**Come  away,  children/'  said  the  otter.  "It  is 
not  worth  eating,  after  all.  It  is  only  an  eft,  which 
nothing  eats." 

*'  I  am  not  an  eft ! ''  said  Tom.    "  Efts  have  tails." 

"You  are  an  eft,"  said  the  otter.  ''I  see  your 
two  hands  quite  plainly,  and  I  know  that  you  have 
a  tail." 

**I  tell  you  I  have  not,"  said  Tom.  "Look 
here !  "  and  he  turned  his  pretty  little  self  quite 
round ;  and  sure  enough,  he  had  no  more  tail  than 
you  have. 

The  otter  might  have  got  out  of  it  by  saying 
that  Tom  was  a  frog ;  but  like  a  great  many  other 
people,  when  she  had  once  said  a  thing  she  stood 
to  it,  right  or  wrong. 

"I  say  you  are  an  eft,"  said  the  otter,  "and 
therefore  you  are,  and  not  fit  food  for  gentlefolk 
like  me  and  my  children ;  you  may  stay  there  till 
the  salmon  eat  you."  (She  knew  the  salmon 
would  not,  but  she  wished  to  frighten  poor  Tom.) 

"  What  are  salmon  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Fish,  you  eft ;  great  fish,  nice  to  eat.  They 
are  the  lords  of  the  fish,  and  we  are  lords  of  the 
salmon ; "  and   she   laughed   again.     "  They  are 


-^  116  B^ 

coming  soon,  children,  coming  soon;  1  can  smell 
the  rain  coming  up  off  the  sea.  Then  hurrah  for 
fresh  salmon  and  plenty  of  eating  all  day  long.'' 

The  otter  grew  so  proud  that  she  turned  head 
over  heels  twice,  and  then  stood  upright  half  out 
of  the  water,  grinning  like  a  Cheshire  cat. 

^'  And  where  do  they  come  from?  ''  asked  Tom. 

''  Out  of  the  sea,  eft,  —  the  great  wide  sea,  where 
they  might  stay  and  be  safe  if  they  liked.'' 

Then  the  otter  sailed  away  down  the  brook,  and 
Tom  saw  her  no  more  for  that  time.  And  lucky 
it  was  for  her  that  she  did  so ;  for  no  sooner  was 
she  gone  than  down  the  bank  came  seven  little 
rough  terrier  dogs,  snuffing  and  yapping,  grubbing 
and  splashing,  in  full  cry  after  the  otter. 

Tom  hid  among  the  water-lilies  till  they  were 
gone;  for  he  could  not  guess  that  they  were  the 
water-fairies  come  to  help  him. 

But  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  what  the 
otter  had  said  about  the  great  river  and  the  broad 
sea.  As  he  thought,  he  longed  to  go  and  see 
them.  He  could  not  tell  why ;  but  the  more  he 
thought,  the  more  he  grew  discontented  with  the 
narrow  little  stream  in  which  he  lived,  and  with' 


-»9  117  St- 
all his  companions.     He  wished  to  get  out  into  the 
wide,   wide  world,   and  enjoy  all  the  wonderful 
sights  of  which  he  was  sure  it  was  full. 

Once  he  set  off  to  go  down  the  stream,  but  the 
stream  was  very  low,  and  when  he  came  to  the 
shallows  he  could  not  keep  under  water,  for  there 
was  no  water  left  to  keep  under.  So  the  sun 
burned  his  back  and  made  him  sick ;  and  he  went 
back  again  and  lay  quiet  in  the  pool  for  a  whole 
week  more. 

II.     TO   THE    SEA 

Then  on  the  evening  of  a  very  hot  day  he  saw 
a  wonderful  sight. 

He  had  been  very  stupid  all  day,  and  so  had 
the  trout ;  for  they  would  not  move  an  inch  to 
take  a  fly,  though  there  were  thousands  on  the 
water;  but  lay  dozing  on  the  bottom  under  the 
shade  of  the  stones.  Tom  lay  dozing  too,  and  was 
glad  to  cuddle  their  smooth,  cool  sides,  for  the 
water  was  warm  and  unpleasant. 

Toward  evening  it  grew  suddenly  dark,  and  Tom 
looked  up  and  saw  a  blanket  of  black  clouds  lying 
across  the  valley  above  his  head.     He  felt  not 


-«  118  S«- 

quite  frightened,  but  very  still ;  for  everything  was 
still.  There  was  not  a  whisper  of  wind  nor  a 
chirp  of  a  bird  to  be  heard. 

Next  a  few  drops  of  rain  fell  into  the  water. 
One  hit  Tom  on  the  nose,  and  made  him  pop  his 
head  down  quickly  enough. 

Then  the  thunder  roared,  and  the  lightning 
flashed  from  cloud  to  cloud,  and  cliff  to  cliff,  till 
the  rocks  in  the  stream  seemed  to  shake. 

Tom  looked  up  at  it  through  the  water,  and 
thought  it  the  finest  thing  he  ever  saw  in  his  life. 

Out  of  the  water  he  dare  not  put  his  head ;  for 
the  rain  came  down  by  bucketsful,  and  the  hail  fell 
like  shot  on  the  stream,  and  churned  it  into  foam. 

Soon  the  stream  rose  and  rushed  dow^n,  higher 
and  higher,  full  of  beetles  and  sticks  and  straws. 

Tom  could  hardly  stand  against  the  stream,  and 
hid  behind  a  rock.  But  the  trout  did  not  hide ; 
for  out  they  rushed  from  among  the  stones,  and 
began  gobbling  the  beetles  and  leeches  in  the 
most  greedy  and  quarrelsome  way;  swimming 
about  with  great  worms  in  their  mouths,  tugging 
and  kicking  to  get  them  away  from  each  other. 

By  the  flashes  of  lightning   Tom   saw  a  new 


-^  119  Q^ 


sight  —  all  the  bottom  of  the  stream  alive  with 
great  eels,  turning  and  twisting  along,  all  down 
stream  and  away.  They  had  been  hiding  for 
weeks  past  in  the  cracks  of  the  rocks  and  in 
burrows  in  the  mud.  Tom  had  hardly  ever  seen 
them  except  now  and  then  at  night;  but  now 
they  were  all  out,  and  went  hurrying  past  him  so 
fiercely  and  wildly  that  he  was  quite  frightened. 

As  they  hurried  past  he  could  hear  them  say  to 
each  other,  "We  must  hurry!  We  must  hurry! 
What  a  jolly  thunder-storm !  Down  to  the  sea! 
Down  to  the  sea !  " 


-^  120  8«- 

Then  the  otter  came  by  with  all  her  brood, 
twining  and  sweeping  along  as  fast  as  the  eels 
themselves. 

She  spied  Tom  as  she  came  by  and  said,  *'Now 
is  your  time,  eft,  if  you  wish  to  see  the  world. 
Come  along,  children,  never  mind  those  eels ;  we 
shall  breakfast  on  salmon  to-morrow.  Down  to 
the  sea !     Down  to  the  sea !  ^^ 

Then  came  a  flash  brighter  than  all  the  rest, 
and  by  the  light  of  it  —  in  the  thousandth  part  of 
a  second  they  were  gone  again  —  but  he  had  seen 
them,  he  was  certain  of  it  —  three  beautiful  little 
white  girls,  with  their  arms  twined  round  each 
other's  necks,  floating  down  the  torrent,  as  they 
sang,  ''  Down  to  the  sea !     Down  to  the  sea ! '' 

"  Oh,  stay !  Wait  for  me !  ^'  cried  Tom ;  but  they 
were  gone.  Yet  he  could  hear  their  voices  clear 
and  sweet  through  the  roar  of  thunder  and  water 
and  wind,  singing  as  they  died  away,  ''  Down  to 
the  sea ! '' 

''Down  to  the  sea?''  said  Tom.  ''Everything 
is  going  to  the  sea,  and  I  will  go,  too.  Good-by 
trout." 

Now  down  the  rushing  stream  he  went,  guided 


-^  121  8«- 

by  the  bright  flashes  of  the  storm;  past  tall 
birch-fringed  rocks,  which  shone  out  one  moment 
as  clear  as  day,  and  the  next  were  dark  as  night. 

Past  dark  coves  under  the  banks,  from  which 
great  trout  rushed  out  on  Tom,  thinking  him  to 
be  good  to  eat,  but  turned  back  quickly,  for  the 
fairies  sent  them  home  again  with  a  scolding  for 
daring  to  meddle  with  a  water-baby.  Along  deep 
reaches,  where  the  white  water-lilies  tossed  and 
flapped  beneath  the  wind  and  hail ;  past  sleeping 
villages ;  under  dark  bridges,  and  away  and  away 
to  the  sea. 

Tom  could  not  stop,  and  did  not  care  to  stop ; 
he  would  see  the  great  world  below,  and  the 
salmon,  and  the  breakers,  and  the  wide,  wide  sea. 

—  Charles  Kingslby. 


-^  122  8i- 


CASABIANCA 


The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck, 

Whence  all  but  he  had  fled ; 
The  flame  that  lit  the  battle's  wreck, 

Shone  round  him  o'er  the  dead ; 
Yet  beautiful  and  bright  he  stood, 

As  born  to  rule  the  storm ; 
A  creature  of  heroic  blood, 

A  proud  though  child-like  form. 

The  flames  rolled  on  —  he  would  not  go 

Without  his  father's  word  ; 
That  father,  faint  in  death  below. 

His  voice  no  longer  heard. 
He  called  aloud :  ''  Say,  Father,  say 

If  yet  my  task  is  done ! '' 
He  knew  not  that  the  chieftain  lay 

Unconscious  of  his  son. 

*'  Speak,  Father ! ''  once  again  he  cried, 

''  If  I  may  yet  be  gone  ! '' 
And  but  the  booming  shots  replied. 

And  fast  the  flames  rolled  on. 


-^  123  Q^ 

Upon  his  brow  he  felt  their  breath, 

And  in  his  waving  hair ; 
And  looked  from  that  lone  post  of  death, 

In  still,  yet  brave  despair; 

And  shouted  but  once  more  aloud, 

^'  My  Father !  must  I  stay  ?  '' 
While  o'er  him  fast,  through  sail  and  shroud 

The  wreathing  fires  made  way. 
They  wrapt  the  ship  in  splendor  wild, 

They  caught  the  flag  on  high, 
And  streamed  above  the  gallant  child, 

Like  banners  in  the  sky. 

There  came  a  burst  of  thunder-sound  — 

The  boy  —  0  !  where  was  he  ? 
—  Ask  of  the  winds  that  far  around 

With  fragments  strewed  the  sea, 
With  mast,  and  helm,  and  pennon  fair 

That  well  had  borne  their  part  — 
But  the  noblest  thing  that  perished  there 

Was  that  young  faithful  heart ! 

—  Felicia  D.  Hemans 


-^  124  8«- 


Styr'i  a 
Gluck 
mus  tach'es 
c6rk'screw§ 


GLUCK'S   VISITOR 

jtntic'kl^ 
ap  poin'ted 
e  nor'mj^us 
iim  brel'la 
tre  men'djius 

I.    THE   FIRST  VISIT 


smoth'er  0d 
gen'er  j^iis 
gin'ders 
shgrter 
en  graved' 


In  the  mountains  of  Styria  there  was,  in  olden 
time,  a  very  fertile  valleyo  It  was  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  steep  and  rocky  mountains,  which 
were  always  covered  with  snow. 

But  the  clouds  were  drawn  so  constantly  to  the 
snowy  hills  that,  in  time  of  drought,  when  all  the 
country  round  was  burnt  up,  there  was  still  rain 
in  the  little  valley. 

Its  crops  were  so  heavy,  and  its  hay  so  high, 
and  its  apples  so  red,  and  its  grapes  so  blue,  and 
its  honey  so  sweet,  that  it  was  called  the  Treasure 
Valley. 

The  whole  of  this  little  valley  belonged  to 
three  brothers  called 'Schwartz,  Hans,  and  Gluck. 


-^  125  8«- 

Schwartz  and  Hans,  the  two  older  brothers,  were 
very  ugly  men.  They  lived  by  farming  the 
Treasure  Valley,  and  very  good  farmers  they  were. 

They  killed  everything  that  did  not  pay  for  its 
eating.  They  shot  the  blackbirds  because  they 
pecked  the  fruit ;  they  poisoned  the  crickets  for 
eating  the  crumbs  in  the  kitchen ;  and  smothered 
the  locusts,  which  used  to  sing  all  summer  in  the 
lime  trees. 

They  worked  their  servants  without  any  wages, 
till  they  would  not  work  any  more,  then  quarrelled 
with  them,  and  turned  them  out  of  doors  without 
paying  them. 

It  would  have  been  odd  if  with  such  a  farm 
and  such  a  way  of  farming  they  didn't  get  very 
rich ;  and  very  rich  they  did  get.  They  generally 
kept  their  corn  until  it  was  dear,  and  then  sold  it 
for  twice  its  value ;  they  had  heaps  of  gold  lying 
about  on  their  floors,  yet  it  was  never  known  that 
they  had  given  so  much  as  a  penny  or  a  crust  in 
charity. 

The  youngest  brother,  Gluck,  was  about  twelve 
years  old,  fair,  blue-eyed,  and  kind  to  every  living 
thing.     He  did  not,  of  course,  agree  very  well  with 


■^  126  S«- 

his  brothers;  or,  rather,  they  did  not  agree  with 
him.  He  was  usually  appointed  to  the  office  of 
turnspit,  —  when  there  was  anything  to  roast, 
which  was  not  often  ;  for  the  brothers  were  hardly 
more  generous  to  themselves  than  to  other  people. 

At  other  times  he  used  to  clean  the  shoes, 
floors,  and  sometimes  the  plates,  —  occasionally 
getting  what  was  left  upon  them  for  his  supper. 

Things  went  on  in  this  manner  for  a  long  time. 
At  last  came  a  very  w^et  summer,  and  everything 
went  wrong  in  the  country  around.  The  hay  had 
just  been  made  when  the  haystacks  were  floated 
down  to  the  sea  by  a  flood.  The  vines  were  cut 
to  pieces  by  the  hail;  the  corn  was  killed  by  a 
blight ;  only  in  the  Treasure  Valley,  as  usual,  all 
was  safe. 

As  it  had  rain  when  there  was  rain  nowhere 
else,  so  it  had  sun  when  there  was  sun  nowhere 
else.  Everybody  came  to  buy  corn  at  the  farm, 
and  went  away  cursing  the  Black  Brothers.  They 
asked  what  they  liked  and  got  it,  except  from  the 
poor  people,  who  could  only  beg,  and  several  of 
whom  were  starved  at  their  very  door. 

It  was  drawing  toward  winter,  and  very  cold 


-^  127  9«- 

weather,  when  one  day  the  two  older  brothers 
went  out,  with  their  usual  warning  to  little  Gluck, 
who  was  left  to  turn  the  roast,  that  he  was  to  let 
nobody  in  and  give  nothing  out. 

Gluck  sat  down  quite  close  to  the  fire,  for  it 
was  raining  very  hard,  and  the  kitchen  walls  were 
by  no  means  dry  or  comfortable-looking.  He 
turned  and  turned,  and  the  roast  got  nice  and 
brown. 

''  What  a  pity,^'  thought  Gluck,  ''  that  my  broth- 
ers never  ask  anybody  to  dinner !  Fm  sure  when 
they  have  such  a  nice  piece  of  mutton  as  this, 
and  nobody  else  has  so  much  as  a  dry  piece  of 
bread,  it  would  do  their  hearts  good  to  have  some- 
body to  eat  it  with  them.^' 

Just  as  he  spoke  there  came  a  double  knock  at 
the  house  door,  yet  heavy  and  dull,  as  though  the 
knocker  had  been  tied  up,  —  more  like  a  puflf  than 
a  knock. 

*' It  must  be  the  wind,^'  said  Gluck;  '* nobody 
else  would  dare  to  knock  double  knocks  at  our 
door." 

No,  it  wasn't  the  wind;  there  it  came  again, 
very  hard,  and  what  was  surprising,  the  knocker 


-^  128  B^ 


seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry,  and  not  in  the  least 
afraid.  Gluck  went  to  the  window,  opened  it,  and 
put  his  head  out  to  see  who  it  was. 


It  was  the  most  extraordinary  looking  gentle- 
man he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life.  He  had  a 
very  large  nose,  slightly  brass-colored ;  his  cheeks 
were  very  round  and  very  red ;  his  eyes  twinkled 
merrily  through  long  eyelashes,  his  mustaches 
curled   twice    round    like   a   corkscrew   on    each 


-«  129  B-- 
side of  his  mouth,  and  his  hair  hung  down  over 
his  shoulders.     ' 

He  was  about  four  feet  six  in  height,  and  wore 
an  enormous  black  coat,  which  must  have  been 
very  much  too  long  in  calm  weather,  as  the  wind 
carried  it  out  from  his  shoulders  to  about  four 
times  his  own  length. 

Gluck  was  terribly  frightened  at  the  appearance 
of  his  visitor,  and  looked  at  him  without  speaking 
a  word.  But  the  old  gentleman,  turning  round  to 
look  after  his  fly-away  cloak,  caught  sight  of 
Gluck' s  little  yellow  head  jammed  in  the  window, 
with  its  mouth  and  eyes  very  wide  open  indeed. 

''Hello!''  said  the  little  gentleman,  ''that's  not 
the  way  to  answer  the  door.    I'm  wet;  let  me  in." 

To  do  the  little  gentleman  justice,  he  was  wet. 
His  feather  hung  down,  dripping  like  an  umbrella; 
and  from  the  ends  of  his  mustaches  the  water 
was  running  into  his  waistcoat  pockets,  and  out 
again  like  a  mill  stream. 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir!"  said  Gluck.  "I'm  very 
sorry,  but  I  really  can't." 

"Can't  what?  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"I  can't  let  you  in,  sir,  —  I  can't,  indeed;  my 


^  130  B«- 

brothers  would  beat  me  to  death,  sir,  if  I  thought 
of  such  a  thing.     What  do  you  want,  sir  ?  ^' 

*'Want?'^  said  the  old  gentleman,  crossly.  *'I 
want  fire  and  shelter ;  and  there's  your  great  fire 
blazing,  crackling,  and  dancing  on  the  walls,  with 
nobody  to  feel  it.  Let  me  in,  I  say ;  I  only  want 
to  warm  myself." 

Gluck  had  had  his  head,  by  this  time,  so  long 
out  of  the  window,  that  he  began  to  feel  that  it 
was  really  cold ;  and  when  he  turned  and  saw  the 
beautiful  fire,  his  heart  melted  within  him.  ''-He 
does  look  very  wet,"  said  little  Gluck;  ''Til  just 
let  him  in  fqr  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

So  round  he  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it; 
and  as  the  little  gentleman  walked  in,  there  came 
a  gust  of  wind  through  the  house  that  made  the 
old  chimneys  totter. 

*' That's  a  good  boy,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
*' Never  mind  your  brothers.     Til  talk  to  them." 

*'Pray,  sir,  don't  do  ahy  such  thing,"  said 
Gluck.  ''  I  can't  let  you  stay  till  they  come  ;  they 
would  be  the  death  of  me." 

''  Dear  me,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  ''  I'm  very 
sorry  to  hear  that.     How  long  may  I  stay?  " 


-^  131  8«- 

''  Only  till  the  mutton  is  done,  sir/^  replied 
Gluck,  "  and  it's  very  brown.'' 

The  old  gentleman  walked  into  the  kitchen,  and 
sat  himself  down  on  the  hob,  with  the  top  of  his 
cap  up  the  chimney,  for  it  was  a  great  deal  too 
high  for  the  roof. 

"You'll  soon  dry  there,  sir,"  said  Gluck,  and 
sat  down  again  to  turn  the  mutton.  But  the  old 
gentleman  did  not  dry  there,  but  went  on  drip, 


-98  132  9«- 

drip,  dripping  among  the  cinders,  and  the  fire 
fizzed,  and  sputtered,  and  began  to  look  very 
black ;  never  was  such  a  cloak ;  every  fold  in  it 
ran  like  a  gutter. 

''  1  beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  Gluck,  at  length,  after 
watching  the  water  spreading  in  long  streams 
over  the  floor  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour;  '* mayn't  I 
take  your  cloak?  " 

**No,  thank  you,''  said  the  old  gentleman. 

^'  Your  cap,  sir?  " 

^'Tm  all  right,  thank  you,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, rather  grufily. 

^'  But  —  sir  —  I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Gluck,  *'but 
—  really,  sir  —  you're  —  putting  the  fire  out." 

''It'll  take  longer  to  do  the  mutton,  then,"  re- 
plied his  visitor. 

Gluck  was  very  much  puzzled  by  the  behavior 
of  his  guest.  He  turned  away  at  the  string  for 
another  five  minutes. 

''That  mutton  looks  very  nice,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.     "  Can't  you  give  me  a  little  bit?" 

"Impossible,  sir,"  said  Gluck. 

"I'm  very  hungry,"  continued  the  old  gentle- 
man.     "I've   had   nothing   to   eat   yesterday  or 


^  133  6«- 

to-day.  They  surely  couldn't  miss  a  bit  from  the 
knuckle !  '^ 

He  spoke  in  so  sad  a  tone  that  it  quite  melted 
Gluck's  heart.  "They  promised  to  give  me  one 
slice  to-day,  sir,"  said  he;  "I  can  give  you  that, 
but  not  a  bit  more.'' 

*' That's  a  good  boy,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
again. 

Then  Gluck  warmed  a  plate  and  sharpened  a 
knife.  "I  don't  care  if  I  do  get  beaten  for  it," 
thought  he.  Just  as  he  had  cut  a  large  slice  out 
of  the  mutton  there  came  a  tremendous  rap  at  the 
door.  The  old  gentleman  jumped  off  the  hob,  as 
if  it  had  suddenly  become  too  warm.  Gluck  fitted 
the  slice  into  the  mutton  again,  and  ran  to  open 
the  door. 

II.     THE    SECOND    VISIT 

"Why  did  you  keep  us  waiting  in  the  rain?" 
said  Schwartz,  as  he  walked  in,  throwing  his 
umbrella  in  Gluck's  face. 

"  Ay,  what  for,  indeed?  "  said  Hans,  giving  him 
a  blow  on  the  ear  as  he  followed  his  brother  into 
the  kitchen. 


^  134  8«- 

'*  Bless  my  soul !  ^'  said  Schwartz,  when  he 
opened  the  door. 

**Amen!'^  said  the  little  gentleman,  who  had 
taken  his  cap  off,  and  was  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  kitchen,  bowing  to  the  two  brothers. 

** Who's  that?''  said  Schwartz,  catching  up  a 
rolling-pin,  and  turning  to  Gluck  with  a  fierce 
frown. 

^'I  don't  know,  indeed,  Brother,"  said  Gluck,  in 
great  terror. 

''  How  did  he  get  in?  "  roared  Schwartz. 

*^My  dear  Brother,"  said  Gluck,  *'he  was  so 
very  wet !  " 

The  rolling-pin  was  descending  on  Gluck's 
head,  but,  at  the  instant,  the  old  gentleman  thrust 
out  his  cap,  on  which  it  crashed  with  a  shock  that 
shook  the  water  out  of  it  all  over  the  room. 

What  was  very  odd,  the  rolling-pin  no  sooner 
touched  the  cap  than  it  flew  out  of  Schwartz's 
hand,  spinning  like  a  straw  in  a  high  wind,  and 
fell  into  the  corner  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  room. 

*'Who  are  you,  sir?"  cried  Schwartz,  turning 
upon  him. 

"  What's  your  business?  "  snarled  Hans. 


-«  135  B^ 

''Vm  a  poor  old  man,  sir/'  the  little  gentleman 
began,  "  and  I  saw  your  fire  through  the  window, 
and  begged  shelter  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

''Have  the  goodness  to  walk  out  again,  then," 
said  Schwartz.  "  We've  quite  enough  water  in 
our  kitchen,  without  making  a  drying-house  of  it." 

''It  is  a  cold  day  to  turn  an  old  man  out  in, 
sir ;  look  at  my  gray  hairs  !  "  They  hung  down  to 
his  shoulders,  as  I  told  you  before. 

"Ay,"  said  Hans,  "there  are  enough  of  them  to 
keep  you  warm.     Walk  !  " 

"  Tm  very,  very  hungry,  sir ;  couldn't  you  spare 
me  a  bit  of  bread  before  I  go  ?  " 

"Bread,  indeed!"  said  Schwartz.  "Do  you 
suppose  we've  nothing  to  do  with  our  bread  but 
to  give  it  to  such  red-nosed  fellows  as  you?  " 

"Why  don't  you  sell  your  feather?"  said  Hans. 
"  Out  with  you  !  " 

"  A  little  bit,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Be  off !  "  said  Schwartz. 

"  Pray,  gentlemen  !  " 

"  Ofif  with  you!"  cried  Hans,  seizing  him  by 
the  collar.  But  he  had  no  sooner  touched  the  old 
gentleman's  collar  than  away  he  went  after  the 


-^  136  B«- 


CLUCK'S  VISITOR 


^  137  8«- 

rolling-pin,  spinning  round  and  round  till  he  fell 
in  the  corner  on  top  of  it. 

Then  Schwartz  was  very  angry,  and  ran  at  the 
old  gentleman  to  turn  him  out;  but  he  also  had 
hardly  touched  him,  when  away  he  went  after 
Hans  and  the  rolling-pin,  and  hit  his  head  against 
the  wall  as  he  tumbled  into  the  corner.  And  so 
there  they  lay,  all  three. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  spun  himself  round 
until  his  cloak  was  wound  neatly  about  him, 
clapped  his  cap  on  one  side  of  his  head,  gave  a 
twist  to  his  corkscrew  mustaches,  and  replied : 
^'  Gentlemen,  I  wish  you  a  very  good  morning. 
At  twelve  o'clock  to-night  111  call  again.  After 
the  treatment  which  I  have  just  received,  you  will 
not  be  surprised  if  that  is  the  last  visit  I  ever 
pay  you." 

*'If  I  ever  catch  you  here  again, '^  muttered 
Schwartz,  coming  half  frightened  out  of  the 
corner  —  but  before  he  could  finish  his  sentence 
the  old  gentleman  had  shut  the  house  door  behind 
him  with  a  great  bang.  At  the  same  instant  a 
cloud  whirled  past  the  window,  and  rolled  away 
down  the  valley  in  all  manner  of  shapes,  turning 


-^  138  8<- 

over  and  over  in  the  air,  and  melting  away  at  last 
in  a  gush  of  rain. 

*'A  very  pretty  business,  indeed,  Mr.  Gluck,'' 
said  Schwartz.  ''Dish  the  mutton!  If  I  ever 
catch  you  at  such  a  trick  again  —  Bless  me ! 
Why,  the  mutton's  been  cut!'' 

''You  promised  me  one  slice,  Brother,  you 
know,"  said  Gluck. 

''  Oh !  and  you  were  cutting  it  hot,  I  suppose, 
and  going  to  catch  all  the  gravy.  It'll  be  long 
before  I  promise  you  such  a  thing  again.  Leave 
the  room,  sir!  " 

Poor  Gluck  left  the  room  without  his  supper. 
The  brothers  ate  as  much  as  they  could,  and 
locked  the  rest  in  the  cupboard. 

Such  a  night  as  it  was!  Howling  wind  and 
rushing  rain  !  The  brothers  put  up  all  the  shutters 
and  double-barred  the  door  before  they  went  to 
bed.     They  usually  slept  in  the  same  room. 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve  they  were  both 
awakened  by  a  tremendous  crash.  Their  door 
broke  open  with  a  shock  that  made  the  house 
tremble  from  top  to  bottom ;  the  rain  beat  in, 
and  the  wind  whistled  through  the  room. 


-^  139  8i- 


*' Who's  that?''  cried  Schwartz,  starting  up  in 
his  bed. 

''  Only  I,"  said  the  little  gentleman. 

The  two  brothers  sat  up  and  stared  into  the 
darkness.  The  room  was  full  of  water,  and  by 
the  misty  moonbeam  which  found  its  way  through 
a  hole  in  the  shutter  they  could  see  in  the  midst 
of  it  an  immense  ball  of  foam,  spinning  round 
and  bobbing  up  and  down  like  a  cork,  on  which 
sat  the  little  old  gentleman,  cap  and  all.     There 


^  140  9«- 

was  plenty  of  room  for  his  tall  cap  now,  for  the 
roof  was  oflf. 

*' Sorry  to  trouble  you/^  said  their  visitor,  with 
a  laugh.  ''  Vm  afraid  your  beds  are  rather  damp ; 
perhaps  you'd  better  go  to  your  brother's  room ; 
I've  left  the  ceiling  on  there,  and  his  room  is 
dry." 

They  needed  no  second  advice,  but  rushed  into 
Gluck's  room,  wet  through,  and  in  an  agony  of 
fear. 

''You'll  find  my  card  on  the  kitchen  table,"  the 
old  gentleman  called  after  them.  "  Remember, 
the  last  visit !  " 

''  I  hope  it  may  be !  "  said  Schwartz,  trembling; 
and  the  ball  of  foam  disappeared. 

Dawn  came  at  last,  and  the  two  brothers  looked 
out  of  Gluck's  little  window  in  the  morning.  The 
Treasure  Valley  was  one  mass  of  ruin.  The  flood 
had  swept  away  trees,  crops,  and  cattle,  and  left 
nothing  but  a  waste  of  red  sand  and  gray  mud. 

The  two  brothers  crept  shivering  and  horror- 
struck  into  the  kitchen.  The  water  had  torn 
away  the  whole  first  floor;  corn,  money,  almost 
everything  had  been  swept  away,  and  there  was 


-98  141  8<- 


left  only  a  small  white  card  on  the  kitchen  table. 
On  it,  in  large,  breezy,  long-legged  letters,  were 
engraved  the  words :  — 


—John  Ruskin. 


Some  murmur  when  their  sky  is  clear, 

And  wholly  bright  to  view, 
If  one  small  speck  of  dark  appear 

In  their  great  heaven  of  blue ; 
And  some  with  thankful  love  are  flll^, 

If  but  one  streak  of  light, 
One  ray  of  God^s  good  mercy,  gild 

The  darkness  of  their  night. 

—  Richard  C.  Trench. 


-»9  142  8«- 


WYNKEN,  BLYNKEN,  AND   NOD 


Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod  one  night 

Sailed  off  in  a  wooden  shoe,  — 
Sailed  on  a  river  of  misty  light 

Into  a  sea  of  dew. 

*  Where  are  you  going,  and  what  do  you  wish  ? '' 

The  old  moon  asked  the  three. 

*  We  have  come  to  fish  for  the  herring-fish 

That  live  in  this  beautiful  sea ; 
Nets  of  silver  and  gold  have  we," 

Said  Wynken, 

Blynken, 

And  Nod. 

The  old  moon  laughed  and  sung  a  song, 
As  they  rocked  in  the  wooden  shoe ; 


-^  143  8«- 

And  the  wind  that  sped  them  all  night  long 

Ruffled  the  waves  of  dew ; 
The  little  stars  were  the  herring-fish 

That  lived  in  the  beautiful  sea. 
''  Now  cast  your  nets  wherever  you  wish, 
But  never  afeard  are  we !  ^^ 
So  cried  the  stars  to  the  fishermen  three : 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

All  night  long  their  nets  they  threw 
For  the  fish  in  the  twinkling  foam, 
Then  down  from  the  sky  came  the  wooden  shoe, 

Bringing  the  fishermen  home ; 
Twas  all  so  pretty  a  sail,  it  seemed 

As  if  it  could  not  be ; 
And   some   folk   thought  'twas   a   dream  they'd 
dreamed, 
Of  sailing  that  beautiful  sea  ; 
But  I  shall  name  you  the  fishermen  three : 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 


•^  144  8«- 

Wynken  and  Blynken  are  two  little  eyes, 

And  Nod  is  a  little  head, 
And  the  wooden  shoe  that  sailed  the  skies 

Is  a  wee  one's  trundle-bed ; 
So  shut  your  eyes  while  Mother  sings 

Of  wonderful  sights  that  be, 
And  you  shall  see  the  beautiful  things 
As  you  rock  on  the  misty  sea 
Where  the  old  shoe  rocked  the  fishermen  three: 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

—  £UQENB  Field. 


^  145  8«- 


CHRIST  AND  THE  LITTLE  ONES 

And  they  brought  unto  Christ  little  children, 
that  he  should  touch  them:  and  the  disciples 
rebuked  them. 

But  when  Jesus  saw  it,  he  was  moved  with  in- 
dignation, and  said  unto  them,  Suffer  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  me ;  forbid  them  not :  for  of 
such  is  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Verily  I  say  unto  you.  Whosoever  shall  not 
receive  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child,  he 
shall  in  no  wise  enter  therein. 

And  he  took  them  in  his  arms  and  blessed  them, 
laying  his  hands  upon  them. 

*^       °  ^  —  Mark  x.  13-17. 

In  that  hour  came  the  disciples  unto  Jesus, 
saying,  Who  then  is  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  ? 

And  he  called  to  him  a  little  child,  and  set 
him  in  the  midst  of  them. 

And  said,  Verily  I  say  unto  you.  Except  ye 
turn,  and  become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  in  no 
wise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


-^  146  8«- 

Whosoever  therefore  shall  humble  himself  as 
this  little  child,  the  same  is  the  greatest  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

And  whoso  shall  receive  one  such  little  child  in 
my  name  receiveth  me. 

—  Matthew  xvin.  1-6. 

And  they  brought  unto  him  also  their  babes, 
that  he  should  touch  them  :  but  when  the  disciples 
saw  it,  they  rebuked  them. 

But  Jesus  called  them  unto  him,  saying,  Suffer 
the  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid 
them  not :  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  God. 

—  Luke  xviii.  15-17 


A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL 

As  Joseph  was  a-walking. 

He  heard  an  angel  sing, 
"  This  night  shall  be  the  birth-night 

Of  Christ  our  heavenly  king. 

**  His  birth-bed  shall  be  neither 

In  housen  nor  in  hall. 
Nor  in  the  place  of  paradise, 

But  in  the  oxen's  stall. 


-^  147  B^ 

"  He  neither  shall  be  rocked 

In  silver  nor  in  gold, 
But  in  the  wooden  manger 

That  lieth  in  the  mould. 

'-'  He  neither  shall  be  washen 
With  white  wine  nor  with  red 

But  with  the  fair  spring  water 
That  on  you  shall  be  shed. 

''  He  neither  shall  be  clothed 

In  purple  nor  in  pall, 
But  in  the  fair  white  linen 

That  usen  babies  all.^^ 

As  Joseph  was  a-walking, 
Thus  did  the  angel  sing. 

And  Mary's  son  at  midnight 
Was  born  to  be  our  King. 

Then  be  you  glad,  good  people, 
At  this  time  of  the  year ; 

And  light  you  up  your  candles, 
For  his  star  it  shineth  clear. 


-^  148  8e- 

COSETTE 

soyi 

trav'ellerg 

Ponine' 

fran€ 

Par'adis^ 

Zel'ma 

vis'ion 

ab  riiptly 

re  le^s'ing 

ped'dlgr 

ap  pro^ch'ing 

men'tioned 

I.     COSETTE   WORKS 

On  Christmas  Eve  Cosette  was  in 

^  III   her  usual  place  near  the  chim- 

_     ney.    She  was  in  rags ;  her 

f    ^    ^^    bare  feet  were  thrust  into 

ii^'^  i    wooden  shoes,  and  by  the 

"^_     firelight    she  was    knit- 

z'-    ting  woollen  stockings. 

Four   new   travellers 

had    arrived    at    the 

inn. 

Cosette  was  think- 
ing that  it  was  dark, 
very  dark;    that    the 
pitchers  in  the  cham- 
bers of   the  travellers  must 


-^  149  8«- 

have  been   filled,  and   that   there  was  no  more 
water  in  the  bucket. 

All  at  once  one  of  the  peddlers  who  lodged  in 
the  inn  entered,  and  said  in  a  harsh  voice :  — 

**  My  horse  has  not  been  watered/' 

'*  Yes  it  has,''  said  Madame  Thenardier. 

''  I  tell  you  that  it  has  not,"  replied  the  peddler. 

Cose tte  came  from  the  chimney  corner. 

''  Oh,  yes,  sir!  "  said  she,  ''  the  horse  has  had  a 
drink.  He  drank  out  of  a  bucket,  a  whole  bucket- 
ful ;  and  it  was  I  who  took  the  water  to  him,  and 
I  spoke  to  him.'' 

**  I  tell  you  that  he  has  not  been  watered.  I  am 
sure  that  he  has  not." 

,    '*  If  the  horse  has  not  been  watered,  he  must 
be,"  said  Madame  Thenardier. 

''But,  Madame,"  said  Cosette,  ''there  is  no 
water." 

"  Well,  go  and  get  some,  then !  " 

Cosette  picked  up  an  empty  bucket  which  stood 
near  the  chimney  corner,  and  went  out  with  it. 

This  bucket  was  bigger  than  she  was,  and  the 
child  could  have  easily  sat  down  in  it. 

The  shops  were  all  brightly  lighted,  for  it  was 


-^  150  B^ 

Christmas  Eve.  In  the  window  of  one  of  the  toy- 
shops stood  an  immense  doll,  nearly  two  feet  tall, 
which  was  dressed  in  a  robe  of  pink  silk,  with 
gold  wheat-ears  on  its  head. 

When  Cosette  went  out,  bucket  in  hand,  she 
could  not  help  lifting  her  eyes  to  that  wonderful 
doll ;  towards  the  lady,  as  she  called  it.  She  had 
not  seen  the  doll  so  near  before.  The  whole  shop 
seemed  a  palace  to  her;  the  doll  was  not  a  doll, 
—  it  was  a  vision.  It  was  joy,  splendor,  riches, 
happiness,  which  appeared  in  a  sort  of  halo  to 
the  unhappy  child. 

Cosette  said  to  herself  that  one  must  be  a 
queen,  or  at  least  a  princess,  to  have  a  "•  thing  '^ 
like  that.  She  gazed  at  that  beautiful  pink 
dress,  that  beautiful  smooth  hair,  and  she  thought, 
*^  How  happy  that  doll  must  be !  '^  She  could  not 
take  her  eyes  from  the  window. 

The  more  she  looked  the  more  dazzled  she  grew. 
She  thought  she  was  looking  at  Paradise.  There 
were  other  dolls  behind  the  large  one,  which 
seemed  to  her  fairies. 

In  looking  at  the  doll  she  forgot  everything,  even 
the  bucket  which  she  held  in  her  hand. 


-»9  151  8«- 

All  at  once  she  heard  a  voice  cry  out,  ''What! 
have  you  not  gone  to  the  spring?  " 

Cosette  fled  with  her  pail,  running  as  fast  as 
she  could. 

She  had  to  go  to  the  spring  in  the  woods  for 
the  water.  When  she  had  passed  the  last  house 
she  began  to  run.  As  she  ran  she  felt  like  crying. 
The  darkness  of  the  forest  frightened  her. 

It  was  only  seven  or  eight  minutes'  walk  from 
the  edge  of  the  woods  to  the  spring.  Cosette 
knew  the  way,  through  having  gone  over  it  many 
times  in  daylight.  She  did  not  turn  her  eyes 
either  to  the  right  or  the  left,  for  fear  of  seeing 
things  in  the  trees  and  bushes.  In  this  way  she 
reached  the  spring. 

She  drew  out  the  bucket  nearly  full  of  water 
and  set  it  on  the  grass.  That  done,  she  found 
that  she  was  worn  out.  She  wished  to  start  for 
home  at  once,  but  was  obliged  to  sit  down. 

Her  hands,  which  she  had  wet  in  drawing  the 
water,  felt  cold.  She  rose ;  her  terror  returned. 
She  had  but  one  thought  now,  —  to  fly,  to  fly 
through  the  forest,  across  the  fields,  to  the  houses, 
to  the  windows,  to  the  lighted  candles ! 


■^  152  8«- 


Her  glance  fell  upon  the  bucket  which  stood 
before   her;    she    seized   the   handle    with    both 

hands ;  she  could  hardly 
lift  the  bucket. 

She  went  a  dozen 
steps,  but  the  bucket 
was  full;  it  was  heavy: 
she  was  forced  to  set  it 
on  the  ground  once  more. 
She  rested  a  moment, 
then  lifted  the  handle  of 
the  bucket  again,  and 
walked  on. 

On  reaching  an  old 
chestnut  tree,  she  made 
a  last  stop,  that  she 
might  get  well  rested; 
then  she  picked  up  her 
bucket  again,  and  went 
on. 

At  that  moment  she 
felt  that  the  weight  of  the  bucket  was  gone;  a 
large  hand  had  seized  the  handle,  and  was  carry- 
ing the  bucket  easily. 


jMBBy.' 

'4Vv'  - 

f    y^ 

-•*;.' 

^  153  8«- 

She  raised  her  head.  A  large  black  form, 
straight  and  erect,  was  walking  beside  her  through 
the  darkness.  It  was  a  man  who  had  come  up 
behind  her,  but  she  had  not  heard  him.  This 
man,  without  saying  a  word,  had  seized  the  handle 
of  the  bucket  which  she  was  carrying. 

The  child  was  not  afraid. 

The  man  spoke  to  her  in  a  low  voice. 

''  My  child,  what  you  are  carrying  is  very  heavy 
for  you." 

Cosette  raised  her  head  and  replied,  ''Yes,  sir.'^ 

*'  Give  it  to  me,''  said  the  man ;  "I  will  carry  it 
for  you.'' 

Cosette  let  go  of  the  bucket.  The  man  walked 
on  beside  her. 

"How  old  are  you,  little  one?  " 

"Eight,  sir." 

"Have  you  come  far  like  this?  " 
'From  the  spring  in  the  forest." 

"Are  you  going  far?" 

"A  good  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk  from  here.'^ 

The  man  said  nothing  for  a  moment;  then  he 
spoke  abruptly:  — 

"So  you  have  no  mother?  " 


-^  154  8«- 

**I  do  not  know/'  answered  the  child. 

Before  the  man  had  time  to  speak  again,  she 
added:  —  '*I  do  not  think  so.  Other  children 
have  mothers.     I  have  none.'^ 

''What  is  your  name?  '^  said  the  man. 

''Cosette.'' 

''Where  do  you  live,  little  one? '' 

"At  the  inn,  if  you  know  where  that  is." 

"That  is  where  we  are  going?  '^ 

"  Yes,  sir.'' 

He  paused ;  then  began  again :  — 

"Who  sent  you  at  such  an  hour  to  get  water  in 
the  forest?" 

"It  was  Madame  Thenardier." 

"What  does  Madame  Thenardier  do?  " 

"She  is  my  mistress,"  said  the  child.  "She 
keeps  the  inn." 

"The  inn?  "  said  the  man.  "Well,  I  am  going 
to  lodge  there  to-night.     Show  me  the  way." 

"We  are  on  the  way  there."  said  the  child. 

The  man  spoke  again  :  — 

"Is  there  no  servant  in  Madame  Thenardier's 
house  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 


-^  155  8€- 

*'  Are  you  alone  there  ?  " 

*'Yes,  sir/' 

Another  pause.  Then  Cosette  said,  **That  is  to 
say,  there  are  two  little  girls.'' 

''What  little  girls?" 

"Ponine  and  Zelma." 

"  Who  are  Ponine  and  Zelma?  " 

"They  are  Madame  Thenardier's  daughters." 

"And  what  do  those  girls  do?  " 

"Oh!"  said  the  child,  "they  have  beautiful 
dolls  and  they  play  all  day  long." 

"And  you?  " 

"I?  I  work." 

"How  do  you  amuse  yourself  ?  " 

"In  the  best  way  I  can.  They  let  me>lone; 
but  I  have  not  many  playthings.  Ponine  and 
Zelma  will  not  let  me  play  with  their  dolls.  I 
have  only  a  little  lead  sword." 

As  they  approached  the  inn,  Cosette  said,  "Will 
you  please  let  me  take  my  bucket  now?  If 
Madame  sees  that  some  one  has  carried  it  for 
me,  she  will  punish  me." 

The  man  handed  her  the  bucket.  A  minute 
later  they  were  at  the  door  of  the  inn. 


-^  156  B^ 


COSETTE 


-«99  157  8«- 

Cosette  could  not  help  glancing  at  the  big  doll, 
which  still  stood  in  the  window  of  the  toy-shop ; 
then  she  knocked.  The  door  opened.  Madame 
Thenardier  appeared  with  a  candle  in  her  hand. 

'^ Madame/'  said  Cosette,  ''here  is  a  gentleman 
who  wishes  a  lodging.'' 

''Enter,  my  good  man,''  said  Madame  Thenar- 
dier. 

The  man  entered ;  laid  his  bundle  and  his  stick 
on  a  bench,  and  seated  himself  at  a  table. 

II.     COSETTE    PLAYS 

Cosette  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  took  up  her 
knitting. 

Ponine  and  Zelma  were  sitting  in  the  chimney 
corner.  They  had  a  doll,  which  they  turned  over 
and  over  on  their  knees  with  all  sorts  of  joyous 
chatter.  From  time  to  time  Cosette  raised  her 
eyes  from  her  knitting,  and  watched  their  play. 

The  doll  was  very  much  faded,  very  old  and 
very  much  broken;  but  it  seemed  beautiful  to 
Cosette,  who  had  never  had  a  doll  in  her  life. 

All  at  once  Madame  Thenardier  saw  that 
Cosette  was  watching  the  little  ones  at  their  play. 


-^  158  B^ 

''Ah!"  she  said.  *'So  that^s  the  way  you 
work !  " 

The  stranger  turned  to  Madame  Thenardier. 
''Let  her  play,"  he  said. 

"She  must  work,  since  she  eats,"  said  the 
woman. 

"What  is  she  making?  "  continued  the  stranger. 

"Stockings,  if  you  please.  Stockings  for  my 
little  girls." 

The  man  looked  at  Cosette's  poor  little  red  feet, 
and  continued,  "When  will  she  finish  this  pair 
of  stockings  ?  " 

"She  has  at  least  three  or  four  good  days'  work 
on  them  still." 

"And  how  much  will  that  pair  of  stockings  be 
worth  when  she  has  finished  them?  " 

"Thirty  sous." 

"  Will  you  sell  them  for  five  francs  ?  "  asked  the 
stranger. 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  you  must  pay  for  them  at  once." 

"I  will  buy  the  pair  of  stockings,"  replied  the 
man,  "and,"  he  added,  drawing  a  five-franc  piece 
from  his  pocket  and  laying  it  on  the  table,  "  I 
will  pay  for  them." 


'^  159  Q^ 

Then  he  turned  to  Cosette.  *'  Now  I  own  your 
work;  play,  my  child. '^ 

**  Is  it  true,  Madame  ?     May  I  play  ?  ^^ 

*^  Play !  ^'  said  Madame  Thenardier,  in  a  harsh 
voice. 

Cosette  dropped  her  knitting,  but  did  not  leave 
her  seat.  She  picked  up  some  old  rags  and  her 
little  lead  sword  from  a  box  behind  her. 

While  Ponine  and  Zelma  were  dressing  their 
doll,  Cosette  dressed  up  her  sword.  That  done, 
she  laid  it  in  her  arms,  and  sang  to  it  softly,  to 
lull  it  to  sleep. 

All  at  once  Cosette  paused ;  she  had  just  turned 
round  and  caught  sight  of  the  doll  which  the  chil- 
dren had  dropped  on  the  floor.  She  dropped  the 
sword,  which  only  half  met  her  needs,  and  cast 
her  eyes  slowly  around  the  room. 

Madame  Thenardier  was  counting  some  money ; 
Ponine  and  Zelma  were  playing  with  the  cat.  She 
had  not  a  moment  to  lose ;  she  got  down  from  her 
chair,  made  sure  once  more  that  no  one  was  watch- 
ing her ;  then  she  slipped  quickly  up  to  the  doll 
and  seized  it.  An  instant  later  she  was  in  her 
place  again,  seated  motionless,  and  only  turned  so 


-^  160  8«- 

as  to  cast  a  shadow  on  the  doll  which  she  held  in 
her  arms. 

No  one  had  seen  her,  except  the  traveller,  who 
was  slowly  eating  his  supper. 

This  joy  lasted  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  But 
with  all  the  care  that  Cosette  had  taken,  she  did 
not  see  that  one  of  the  dolFs  legs  stuck  out,  and 
that  the  firelight  shone  on  it. 

That  pink  and  shining  foot  suddenly  struck  the 
eye  of  Zelma,  who  said  to  Ponine,  "  Look,  sister!  ^' 

The  two  little  girls  stared ;  Cosette  had  dared 
to  take  their  doll ! 

Ponine  rose,  and  without  releasing  the  cat,  she 
ran  to  her  mother,  and  began  to  pull  at  her  skirt. 

"•  Let  me  alone !  ^'  said  the  mother. 

*' Mother,'^  said  the  child,  ''look  there!''  and 
she  pointed  to  Cosette. 

When  Madame  Thenardier  saw  the  doll  in  the 
child's  arms  she  cried  out,  "  Cosette ! '' 

Cosette  started  and  turned  round. 

"  Cosette ! ''  repeated  the  woman. 

Cosette  took  the  doll  and  laid  it  gently  on  the 
floor,  then  without  taking  her  eyes  from  it,  she 
clasped  her  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 


-98  161  S€- 

Meanwhile,  the  stranger  had  risen  to  his  feet. 
*'  What  is  the  matter?  ^'  he  said. 

^'Don^t  you  see?''  said  Madame  Thenardier, 
pointing  to  the  doll  which  lay  at  Cosette's  feet. 

''  Well,  what  of  it?  ''  replied  the  man. 

''That  child,"  said  the  woman,  "has  dared' to 
touch  the  children's  doll." 

''  All  this  noise  for  that !  "  said  the  man.  He 
went  straight  to  the  street  door,  opened  it,  and 
stepped  out. 

The  door  opened  again  in  a  moment,  and  the 
man  entered.  He  carried  in  both  hands  the  beau- 
tiful doll  which  we  have  mentioned,  and  he  sat  it 
upright  in  front  of  Cosette,  saying,  ''Here;  this 
is  for  you." 

Cosette  raised  her  eyes ;  she  gazed  at  the  man 
approaching  her  with  that  doll  as  she  might  have 
gazed  at  the  sun.  She  heard  the  words,  "It  is  for 
you"  ;  she  stared  at  him ;  she  stared  at  the  doll ; 
then  she  went  under  the  table,  and  hid  herself. 

"Well,  Cosette,"  said  Madame  Thenardier,  in  a 
voice  that  she  tried  to  make  sweet,  "are  you  not 
going  to  take  the  doll  ?  The  gentleman  has  given 
you  a  doll,  my  little  Cosette ;  take  it,  it  is  yours." 


-^  162  8«- 


Cosette  looked  at  the  doll.  Her  face  was  still 
wet  with  tears,  but  she  smiled  beautifully.  What 
she  felt  at  that  moment  was  a  little  like  what 
she  would  have  felt  if  some  one  had  said  to  her, 
**  Little  one,  you  are  the  Queen  of  France. '^ 

Then  Cosette  went  timidly  up  to  Madame  Th^- 
nardier  and  said,  "  May  I  really  have  it?  '^ 

''Why,  yes,  it  is 
yours.  The  gentleman 
has  given  it  to  you.'' 

''Truly,  sir?''  said 
Cosette.  "Is  it  true? 
Is  '  the  lady  '  mine  ?  " 

The  stranger's  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  He 
nodded  to  Cosette,  and 
placed  "the  lady's" 
tiny  hand  in  hers. 

"I  shall  call  her 
Catherine,"  said 
Cosette.  Then  she  said 
to  Madame  Thenardier, 
"  May  I  put  her  in  a 
chair?" 


-«  163  d^ 

'Yes,  my  child,"  replied  Madame  Thenardier. 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  Ponine  and  Zelma  to 
stare  at  Cosette  with  envy. 

Cosette  placed  Catherine  in  a  chair,  then  seated 
herself  on  the  floor  in  front  of  her.  She  did  not 
move,  but  sat  there  and  gazed  in  admiration  at 
her  beautiful  doll. 

''Play,  Cosette,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Oh,  I  am  playing,"  replied  the  child,  without 
even  turning  her  head  for  an  instant. 

Soon  Madame  Thenardier  sent  her  two  daughters 
to  bed.  Then  she  turned  to  the  stranger.  "  I 
shall  send  Cosette,  also,"  she  said.  "The  poor 
child  has  worked  so  hard  to-day." 

Cosette  went  off  happily  to  bed,  carrying  Cath- 
erine in  her  arms. 

—  Victor  Hugo. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

We  were  crowded  in  the  cabin, 
Not  a  soul  would  dare  to  sleep,  — 

It  was  midnight  on  the  waters. 
And  a  storm  was  on  the  deep. 


-^  164  8«- 

'Tis  a  fearful  thing  in  winter 
To  be  shattered  in  the  blast, 

And  to  hear  the  rattling  trumpet 
Thunder,  ''  Cut  away  the  mast !  " 

So  we  shuddered  there  in  silence, — 
For  the  stoutest  held  his  breath. 

While  the  hungry  sea  was  roaring. 
And  the  breakers  talked  with  Death. 

As  thus  we  sat  in  darkness. 

Each  one  busy  in  his  prayers,  — 

"  We  are  lost !  '^  the  captain  shouted, 
As  he  staggered  down  the  stairs. 

But  his  little  daughter  whispered, 

As  she  took  his  icy  hand, 
''  Isn't  God  upon  the  ocean. 

Just  the  same  as  on  the  land  ?  '' 

Then  we  kissed  the  little  maiden, 
And  we  spoke  in  better  cheer. 

And  we  anchored  safe  in  harbor 
When  the  morn  was  shining  clear. 

—  Jambs  T.  Fields, 


-^  165  8«- 


re  solved' 
su  pe'ri  or 

remark'abl^ 
impres'sion 


MAGGIE  TULLIVER 

hiriock 
co^x'ing 
con  fus'ing 
re  pro^ch' 
snajKch^d 


ap'pe  tit^ 

fSr'ward 

ram'bling 

ta]int 

sii^ges'ted 


Maggie  had  resolved 
that  she  would  run 
away  and  go  to  the 
gypsies,  and  Tom 
should  never  see  her 
any  more. 

This  was  by  no 
means  a  new  idea; 
she  had  been  so  often 
told  that  she  was  like 
a  gypsy,  that  when 
she  was  unhappy  it 
always  seemed  to  her 
that  the  best  thing  for 


MAGGIE    RUNS   AWAY 


^  166  et- 
her to  do  would  be  to  live  in  a  little  brown  tent 
on  the  common. 

The  gypsies,  she  thought,  would  gladly  receive 
her,  and  pay  her  much  respect  on  account  of  her 
superior  knowledge. 

She  had  once  mentioned  this  to  Tom,  and  had 
suggested  that  he  should  stain  his  face  brown, 
and  they  should  run  away  together.  But  Tom  did 
not  approve  of  the  plan,  and  said  that  gypsies 
were  thieves,  and  hardly  got  anything  to  eat,  and 
had  nothing  to  drive  but  a  donkey. 

To-day,  however,  Maggie  was  so  unhappy  that 
she  thought  she  must  certainly  become  a  gypsy. 

She  rose  from  her  seat  on  the  roots  of  a  tree, 
and  set  off  at  once. 

She  would  run  straight  away  till  she  came  to 
Dunlow  Common,  where  there  would  certainly  be 
gypsies ;  and  cruel  Tom  should  never  see  her  any 
more. 

Maggie  was  soon  out  of  breath  with  running, 
but  she  hurried  as  fast  she  could,  for  fear  that 
Tom  would  come  to  look  for  her. 

At  last,  however,  the  green  fields  came  to  an 
end,  and  Maggie  found  herself  looking  through 


-98  167  8<- 

the  bars  of  a  gate  into  a  lane  with  a  wide  margin 
of  grass  on  each  side  of  it.  She  had  never  seen 
such  a  wide  lane  before,  and,  without  knowing 
why,  it  gave  her  the  impression  that  the  common 
could  not  be  far  off.  She  crept  through  the  bars 
of  the  gate  and  walked  on. 

Suddenly  she  caught  sight  of  a  pair  of  legs 
sticking  up  by  the  side  of  a  hillock.  It  was  a 
boy  asleep,  and  Maggie  trotted  along  faster  and 
more  lightly  for  fear  she  would  wake  him. 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  he  was  one  of  her 
friends  the  gypsies.  But  the  fact  was  so,  for  at 
the  next  bend  in  the  lane  Maggie  saw  a  little 
black  tent  with  the  blue  smoke  rising  before  it. 

She  even  saw  a  tall  woman  standing  by  the 
blue  smoke,  doubtless  the  gypsy  mother. 

It  was  rather  disappointing  to  find  the  gypsies 
in  a  lane  and  not  on  a  common ;  for  a  common, 
where  there  were  sand-pits  to  hide  in,  had  always 
made  a  part  of  Maggie's  picture  of  gypsy  life. 

It  was  plain  that  she  had  attracted  attention ; 
for  the  tall  figure,  who  proved  to  be  a  young 
woman  with  a  baby  on  her  arm,  walked  slowly  to 
meet  her. 


^  168  8«- 

^^ Where  are  you  going,  my  little  lady?''  said 
the  gypsy  in  a  coaxing  tone. 

It  was  delightful,  and  just  what  Maggie  ex- 
pected ;  the  gypsies  saw  at  once  that  she  was  a 
little  lady. 

"Not  any  farther,''  said  Maggie,  feeling  as  if 
she  were  saying  what  she  had  thought  in  a  dream. 
"I'm  coming  to  stay  with  you^  please." 

"  That's  pretty  ;  come,  then.  Why,  what  a  nice 
little  lady  you  are,  to  be  sure !  "  said  the  gypsy, 
taking  her  by  the  hand.  Maggie  thought  her 
very  agreeable,  but  wished  she  had  not  been  so 
dirty. 

There  was  a  group  round  the  fire  when  they 
reached  it.  An  old  gypsy  woman  was  sitting  on 
the  ground  poking  a  skewer  into  the  round  kettle 
that  sent  forth  steam.  Two  small  children  were 
lying  down  resting  on  their  elbows.  A  donkey 
was  bending  his  head  over  a  tall  girl,  who  was 
scratching  his  nose  and  feeding  him  with  a  bite 
of  stolen  hay. 

The  sunlight  fell  upon  them,  and  the  scene 
was  really  very  pretty,  Maggie  thought,  only  she 
hoped  they  would  soon  set  out  the  teacupSc 


-^  169  9«- 

Everything  would  be  charming  when  she  had 
taught  the  gypsies  to  use  a  wash-basin,  and  to 
feel  an  interest  in  books. 

It  was  a  little  confusing  when  the  young  woman 
began  to  speak  to  the  old  one  in  a  language  which 
Maggie  did  not  understand,  while  the  tall  girl  sat 
up  and  stared  at  her  without  saying  anything. 

At  last  the  old  woman  said,  ''  What,  my  pretty 
lady,  have  you  come  to  stay  with  us  ?  Sit  down 
and  tell  us  where  you  came  from.'' 

It  was  just  like  a  story;  Maggie  liked  to  be 
called  pretty  and  treated  in  this  way.  She  sat 
down  and  said  :  — 

*'  I  came  from  home  because  Fm  unhappy,  and 
I  mean  to  be  a  gypsy.  I'll  live  with  you  if  you 
like,  and  I  can  teach  you  a  great  many  things." 

*'  Such  a  clever  little  lady,"  said  the  woman 
with  the  baby,  sitting  down  by  Maggie,  and 
allowing  the  baby  to  crawl.  "  And  such  a  pretty 
bonnet  and  frock,"  she  added,  taking  off  Maggie's 
bonnet  and  looking  at  it.  The  tall  girl  snatched 
the  bonnet  and  put  it  on  her  own  head ;  but 
Maggie  was  determined  not  to  show  any  weakness 
on  this  subject. 


-^  170  B^ 

''I  don't  want  to  wear  a  bonnet,"  said  Maggie; 
''Fd  rather  wear  a  red  handkerchief,  like  yours." 

*'  Oh,  what  a  nice  little  lady !  and  rich,  I'm 
sure,"  said  the  old  woman.  '' Didn't  you  live  in 
a  beautiful  house  at  home  ?  " 

'*Yes,  my  home  is  pretty,  and  I'm  very  fond 
of  the  river,  where  we  go  fishing,  but  I'm  often 
very  unhappy.  I  should  have  liked  to  bring  my 
books  with  me,  but  I  came  away  in  a  hurry,  you 
know.  But  I  can  tell  you  almost  everything  there 
is  in  my  books,  I've  read  them  so  many  times, 
and  that  will  amuse  you.  I  can  tell  you  some- 
thing about  geography  too,  —  that's  about  the 
world  we  live  in,  very  useful  and  interesting. 
Did  you  ever  hear  about  Columbus?" 

Maggie's  eyes  had  begun  to  sparkle  and  her 
cheeks  to  flush,  —  she  was  really  beginning  to 
teach  the  gypsies. 

"Is  that  where  you  live,  my  little  lady?  "  said 
the  old  woman,  at  the  mention  of  Columbus. 

''  Oh,  no ! "  said  Maggie,  with  some  pity ; 
*'  Columbus  was  a  very  wonderful  man,  who  found 
out  half  the  world,  and  they  put  chains  on  him 
and  treated  him  very  badly.     It's  in  my  geography, 


-^  ±11  3^ 

but  perhaps  its  rather  too  long  to  tell  before  tea 
—  I  want  my  tea  so,''^ 

The  last  words  burst  from  Maggie  in  spite  of 
herself. 

''Why,  she's  hungry,  poor  little  lady,''  said  the 
younger  woman.  ''  Give  her  some  of  the  cold 
food.  You've  been  walking  a  long  way,  my  dear. 
Where's  your  home  ?  " 

"  It's  Dorlcote  Mill,  a  long  way  off,"  said 
Maggie.  "  My  father  is  Mr.  TuUiver,  but  we 
mustn't  let  him  know  where  I  am,  or  he'll  take 
me  home  again.  Where  does  the  Queen  of  the 
gypsies  live?  " 

"What!  do  you  want  to  go  to  her,  my  little 
lady?  "  said  the  younger  woman. 

''No,"  said  Maggie,  "I'm  only  thinking  that  if 
she  isn't  a  very  good  queen  you  might  be  glad 
when  she  died,  and  you  could  choose  another. 
If  I  were  a  queen,  I'd  be  a  very  good  queen,  and 
kind  to  everybody." 

"  Here's  a  bit  of  nice  food,"  said  the  old  woman, 
handing  Maggie  a  lump  of  dry  bread,  and  a 
piece  of  cold  bacon. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Maggie,  looking  at  the  food 


■^  172  8«- 

without  taking  it;  ''but  will  you  give  me  some 
bread  and  butter  and  tea  instead  ?  I  don't  like 
bacon/' 

''We've  got  no  tea  nor  butter,"  said  the  old 
woman,  with  something  like  a  scowl,  as  if  she 
were  getting  tired  of  coaxing. 

"  Oh,  a  little  bread  and  treacle  would  do,"  said 
Maggie. 

"  We've  got  no  treacle,"  said  the  old  woman, 
crossly. 

Maggie  trembled  a  little,  and  was  afraid  the 
tears  would  come  into  her  eyes.  She  felt  very 
lonely,  and  was  quite  sure  she  should  begin  to  cry 
before  long.  Just  then  two  men  came  up.  They 
seemed  to  inquire  about  Maggie,  for  while  they 
were  talking  they  looked  at  her. 

At  last  the  younger  woman  said,  "This  little 
lady's  come  to  live  with  us ;  aren't  you  glad?  " 

"Ay,  very  glad,"  said  the  younger  man,  who 
was  looking  at  Maggie's  silver  thimble  and  other 
small  things  that  had  been  taken  from  her  pocket. 
He  returned  them  all  except  the  thimble  to  the 
young  woman,  who  put  them  back  in  Maggie's 
pocket.     The  men  seated  themselves,  and  began 


-^  173  8«- 


%^  ^-.'.V''*''  ,.'  ^^'   '  "^^'^   !«' 


MAGGIE   TULLIVER 


-^  174  B^ 

to  eat  the  contents  of  the  kettle,  —  a  stew  of  meat 
and  potatoes,  —  which  had  been  taken  off  the 
fire  and  turned  into  a  yellow  platter. 

II.      MAGGIE    GOES   HOME 

Maggie  began  to  think  that  Tom  must  be 
right  about  the  gypsies;  they  must  certainly  be 
thieves,  unless  the  man  meant  to  return  her  thim- 
ble by  and  by.  She  would  willingly  have  given 
it  to  him,  for  she  was  not  at  all  attached  to  her 
thimble ;  but  the  idea  that  she  was  among  thieves 
frightened  her. 

The  women  saw  that  she  was  frightened. 
''We've  got  nothing  nice  for  a  lady  to  eat,"  said 
the  old  woman,  in  her  coaxing  tone.  ''And  she's 
so  hungry,  sweet  little  lady." 

"  Here,  my  dear,  see  if  you  can  eat  a  bit  of 
this,"  said  the  younger  woman,  handing  some  of 
the  stew  in  a  brown  dish  with  an  iron  spoon  to 
Maggie. 

Eemembering  that  the  old  woman  had  seemed 
angry  with  her  for  not  liking  the  bread  and 
bacon,  she  did  not  dare  to  refuse  the  stew.  If 
her  father  would  but  come  by  in  the  gig  and  take 


^  175  S«- 

her  up !  Or  even  if  Jack  the  Giantkiller,  or  Mr. 
Greatheart,  or  St.  George  who  killed  the  dragon 
would  happen  to  pass  that  way ! 

''What!  you  don't  like  the  smell  of  it,  my 
dear?  "  said  the  young  woman,  seeing  that  Maggie 
did  not  even  take  a  spoonful  of  the  stew.  *'Try 
a  bit,  do.'' 

''No,  thank  you,"  said  Maggie,  trying  to  smile 
in  a  friendly  way.  "  I  haven't  time,  I  think ;  it 
seems  getting  darker.  I  think  I  must  go  home 
now,  and  come  again  another  day,  and  then  I  can 
bring  you  a  basket  with  some  jam-tarts." 

Maggie  rose  from  her  seat,  but  her  hope  sank 
when  the  old  gypsy  woman  said,  "  Stop  a  bit,  stop 
a  bit,  little  lady ;  we'll  take  you  home,  all  safe, 
when  we've  done  supper.  You  shall  ride  home, 
like  a  lady." 

Maggie  sat  down  again,  with  little  faith  in  this 
promise,  though  she  presently  saw  the  tall  girl 
putting  a  bridle  on  the  donkey. 

"Now,  then,  little  missis,"  said  the  younger 
man,  rising,  and  leading  the  donkey  forward,  "tell 
us  where  you  live.  What's  the  name  of  the 
place?" 


-^  176  8<- 

^'Dorlcote  Mill  is  my  home/'  said  Maggie, 
eagerly.  *'  My  father  is  Mr.  Tulliver ;  he  lives 
there." 

''What!  the  big  mill  a  little  way  this  side  of 

St.  Ogg's?'' 


a 


^■^:V^'^ 


4.-\s&.A.,.-       *'♦      ^' 


'^  Yes/'  said  Maggie.  ''  Is  it  far  off?  I  think  I 
should  like  to  walk  there,  if  you  please.'' 

"  No,  no,  it'll  be  getting  dark,  we  must  make 
haste.  And  the  donkey  will  carry  you  as  nice  as 
can  be;  you'll  see." 

He  lifted  Maggie  as  he  spoke,  and  set  her  on 


^  177  8«- 

the  donkey.  She  felt  relieved  that  it  was  not  the 
old  man  who  seemed  to  be  going  with  her,  but  she 
had  only  a  little  hope  that  she  was  really  going 
home. 

*' Here's  your  pretty  bonnet/'  said  the  younger 
woman,  putting  it  on  Maggie's  head ;  ''  and  you'll 
say  we've  been  very  good  to  you,  won't  you  ?  And 
what  a  nice  little  lady  we  said  you  were  ?  " 

**  Oh,  yes,  thank  you,"  said  Maggie.  *^I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you.  But  I  wish  you'd  go  with 
me,  too." 

She  thought  anything  was  better  than  going 
with  one  of  the  dreadful  men  alone. 

"Ah,  you're  fondest  of  me,  aren't  you?"  said 
the  woman.  ''  But  I  can't  go ;  you'll  go  too  fast 
for  me." 

It  now  appeared  the  man  also  was  to  be  seated 
on  the  donkey,  holding  Maggie  before  him.  When 
the  woman  had  patted  her  on  the  back,  and  said 
*^Good-by,"  the  donkey  set  off  at  a  rapid  walk 
down  the  lane. 

At  last  —  oh,  joy! — this  lane,  the  longest  in 
the  world,  was  coming  to  an  end.  And  there 
was  a  finger-post  at  the  corner,  —  she  had  surely 


^  178  8«- 

seen  that  finger-post  before,  —  "To  St.  Ogg's,  2 
miles/'  The  gypsy  really  meant  to  take  her  home, 
then ;  he  was  probably  a  good  man,  after  all,  and 
might  have  been  rather  hurt  at  the  thought  that 
she  didn't  like  coming  with  him  alone.  She  was 
just  thinking  of  speaking  to  the  gypsy,  when,  as 
they  reached  a  cross-road,  Maggie  caught  sight  of 
some  one  coming  on  a  white-faced  horse. 

'^  Oh,  stop,  stop !  "  she  cried  out.  "  There's  my 
father  !     Oh,  Father,  Father !  " 

The  sudden  joy  was  almost  painful,  and  before 
her  father  reached  her,  she  was  sobbing. 

"Why,  what's  the  meaning  of  this?"  said  Mr. 
Tulliver,  stopping  his  horse,  while  Maggie  slipped 
from  the  donkey  and  ran  to  her  father. 

"The  little  miss  lost  herself,"  said  the  gypsy. 
"  She'd  come  to  our  tent  at  the  end  of  Dunlow 
Lane,  and  I  was  bringing  her  where  she  said  her 
home  was.  It's  a  good  way  to  come  after  tramp- 
ing all  day." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Father,  he's  been  very  good  to  bring 
me  home,"  said  Maggie,  —  "a  very  kind,  good 
man ! " 

"  Here,  then,  my  man,"  said  Mr.  Tulliver,  taking 


^  179  St- 


out five  shillings.  '^  It^s  the  best  day's  work  you 
ever  did.  I  couldn^t  afford  to  lose  the  little  girl ; 
here,  lift  her  up  before  me.'^ 

"  Why,  Maggie,  how^s  this,  how's  this  ?  "  he  said, 
as   they   rode   along.     *'How 
came  you   to  be   rambling 
about  alone  ? '' 

''  Oh,  Father,"  sobbed 
Maggie,     *'  I   ran    away 
because   I   was    so    un- 
happy; Tom  was  so 
angry  with  me." 

*'You  mustn't 
think  of  running 
away  from  Father/' 
said  Mr.  Tulliver. 
*'  What  would  Father 
do  without  his  little  girl  ?  " 

*'0h,  no.     I  never  will  again.  Father  —  never." 

Mr.  Tulliver  spoke  his  mind  very  strongly  when 
he  reached  home;  and  the  effect  was  seen  in  the 
fact  that  Maggie  never  heard  one  reproach  from 
her  mother,  nor  one  taunt  from  Tom,  about  her 
running  away  to  the  gypsies.  -geobqb  eliot. 


VvViSM 


-«  180  »- 


LOKNA  DOONE  AND  JOHN  RIDD 


lo^ch 

brog^i^ 

pli^t 

pr6ng^d 

feign'ing 

shtid'der^d 

dis  turbed' 

rifJg^ 

fur'long 

ba'cgn 

cow'ard 

crouch 'ing 

de  cis'ion 

grant 

I.      JOHN   RIDD 

explor^' 

When  I  was  fourteen  years  old  I  started  out  one 
day  to  explore  the  Bagworthy  stream,  and  to  catch 
some  fish  for  my  mother. 

My  sister  Annie  could  not  come  with  me  because 
the  water  was  too  cold ;  for  the  winter  had  been 
long,  and  snow  lay  here  and  there  in  patches  in 
the  hollow  of  the  banks. 

I  never  shall  forget  that  day,  and  how  bitter 
cold  the  water  was,  for  I  took  off  my  shoes  and 
stockings  and  put  them  into  a  bag  about  my  neck. 
I  left  my  little  coat  at  home,  and  tied  my  shirt 
sleeves  back  to  my  shoulders. 

Then  I  took  a  three-pronged  fork  firmly  bound 
to  a  rod  with  cords,  and  a  piece  of  cloth  with  a 


-98  181  8«- 


lump  of  bread  inside  it;  and  so  went  into  the 
pebbly  water,  trying  to  think  how  warm  it  was. 

For  more  than  a  mile  all  down  the  Lynn  stream, 
scarcely  a  stone  I  left  un- 
turned, being   thoroughly 
skilled  in  the  tricks  of  the 
loach,  and  knowing  how 
he   hides   himself.      For, 
being     gray-spotted     and 
clear  to   see  through,  he 
will  stay  quite  still  where    // 
a  bit  of  weed  is  in  the  yj 
rapid  water,  hoping  to  be 
overlooked,     nor     caring 
even    to    wag    his     tail. 

Then,  being  disturbed, 
he  flips  away  to  a  shelf  of 
stone,  and   lies  with   his  ^     ~  ^^ — 

sharp  head  poked  in  under  it;  or  sometimes  he 
dives  into  the  mud,  and  shows  only  his  back 
ridge. 

When  I  had  travelled  two  miles  or  so,  shivering 
with  cold,  and  coming  out  to  rub  my  legs ; 
only  fishing  here  and  there  because  of  the  rapids, 


-«  182  9«- 

suddenly  in  an  open  space,  where  meadows  spread 
about  it,  I  found  a  good  stream  flowing  into  our 
brook. 

Here  I  stopped  because  the  water  was  bitter 
cold,  and  my  little  toes  were  aching.  I  sat  down 
on  the  bank  and  rubbed  them  well.  Then  I  ate 
the  crust  of  sweet  brown  bread,  and  bit  of  cold 
bacon ;  kicking  my  little  red  heels  on  the  dry  soil 
to  keep  them  warm. 

I  did  not  like  to  go  back  now  and  tell  Annie 
there  were  no  loaches ;  and  yet  it  was  a  frightful 
thing  to  venture,  where  no  grown  man  dared  go, 
up  the  Bagworthy  water. 

However,  as  I  ate  more  and  more,  my  spirit 
rose  within  me,  and  I  thought  of  what  my  father 
had  been,  and  how  he  had  told  me  a  hundred 
times  never  to  be  a  coward.  Then  I  grew 
warm,  and  my  little  heart  was  ashamed  of  its 
pit-a-patting,  and  I  said  to  myself,  ''Now,  if 
Father  looks,  he  shall  see  that  I  obey  him.'' 

So  I  put  the  bag  round  my  neck  again,  and 
crossing  the  Lynn,  went  stoutly  up  under  the 
branches  which  hang  so  dark  on  the  Bagworthy 
River. 


■^  183  Q^ 


I  found  it  not  so  rocky  as  the  Lynn,  with  fewer 
rapids.  Here  and  there  the  sun  came  in,  as  if  his 
light  was  sifted,  dancing  upon  the  waves,  and 
shadowing  the  pebbles. 

Here,  although  frightened  often  by  the  deep, 
dark  places,  and  feeling  that  every  step  I  took 

might  never  be  taken  back- 
ward, on  the  whole  I  had 
very  good  sport. 

Now,  if  you  have  ever 
been  fishing,  you  will  not 
wonder  that  I  was  led  on, 
forgetting  all  about  danger, 
and  taking  no  heed  of 
the  time,  but  shouting 
in  a  childish  way  when- 
ever I  caught  a  big  fish. 
But  in  answer  to  all 
my  shouts  there  never 
was  any  sound  at  all. 
The  place  grew  thicker  and  thicker,  and  the  trees 
hung  darker  above  me,  until  I  thought  the  fishes 
might  have  a  good  chance  of  eating  me,  instead 
of  my  eating  the  fishes. 


■^  184  8«- 

Now  the  day  was  falling  fast  behind  the  brown 
of  the  hilltops;  and  the  leafless  trees  seemed 
giants  ready  to  beat  me. 

Every  moment,  as  the  sky  was  clearing  up  for  a 
white  frost,  the  cold  of  the  water  got  worse  and 
worse,  until  I  was  fit  to  cry  with  it.  And  so,  in  a 
sorry  plight,  I  came  to  an  opening  in  the  bushes 
where  a  great  black  pool  lay  in  front  of  me. 

Now,  though  I  could  swim  with  great  ease  and 
comfort,  and  did  not  fear  deep  water,  I  had  no 
desire  to  go  over  head  and  ears  into  this  black 
pool,  being  cramped  and  weary  and  cold.  The 
look  of  this  great  pit  was  enough  to  stop  one  from 
diving  into  it,  even  on  a  hot  summer's  day  with 
sunshine  on  the  water. 

As  it  was,  I  shuddered  and  drew  back.  But 
soon  I  saw  the  reason  of  the  depth  of  the  pit,  as 
well  as  of  the  roaring  sound.  For  climbing  round 
one  side,  I  came  to  a  sudden  sight,  such  as  I  never 
dreamed  of. 

For,  lo !  I  stood  at  the  foot  of  a  long  slide  of 
water,  coming  smoothly  down,  without  any  break, 
for  a  hundred  yards  or  more.  The  water  neither 
ran  nor  fell,  nor  leaped,  but  made  one  even  slope 


-«  185  9«- 

of  it,  looking  like  a  plank  of  deal  laid  down  a  deep 
black  staircase. 

The  look  of  this  place  had  a  sad  effect,  scaring 
me  very  greatly,  and  making  me  feel  that  I  would 
give  something  to  be  at  home  again,  with  Annie 
cooking  my  supper,  and  our  dog,  ''  Watch,  ^^  snuffing 
upward.  But  nothing  would  come  of  wishing;  as 
I  had  found  out  long  ago. 

Then  said  I  to  myself,  ''John  Ridd,  these  trees, 
and  pools,  and  lonesome  rocks,  and  setting  sun 
are  making  a  coward  of  thee.  Shall  I  go  back  to 
my  mother  so,  and  be  called  her  fearless  boy?  ^^ 

Nevertheless,  I  am  free  to  own  that  it  was  not 
so  much  a  sense  of  shame  which  settled  my 
decision,  as  a  desire  to  know  what  made  the  water 
come  down  like  that,  and  what  there  was  at  the 
top  of  it. 

Therefore,  seeing  a  hard  climb  before  me,  I  tied 
my  fish  around  my  neck  more  tightly,  and  not 
stopping  to  look,  for  fear  of  being  frightened, 
crawled  along  over  the  fork  of  rocks,  and  let  my 
feet  into  the  dip  and  rush  of  the  torrent. 

Then  having  said  the  Lord's  Prayer,  I  grasped 
the  good  loach-stick  under  a  knot,  and  began  my 


-^  186  8<- 


LORNA  DOONE  AND  JOHN  RIDD 


-^  187  8«- 

course  np  the  fearful  torrent.  To  me  it  seemed 
half  a  mile  at  least  of  sliding  water  above  me,  but 
in  truth  it  was  little  more  than  a  furlong. 

It  would  have  been  a  hard  climb  even  without 
the  slippery  rocks  and  the  force  of  the  river  over 
them,  and  I  had  little  hope,  indeed,  of  ever  winning 
the  summit.  Nevertheless,  my  terror  left  me,  now 
I  was  face  to  face  with  it,  and  had  to  meet  the 
worst ;  and  I  set  myself  to  do  my  best. 

How  I  went  carefully,  step  by  step,  keeping  my 
arms  in  front  of  me,  and  never  daring  to  straighten 
my  knees,  is  more  than  I  can  tell  now,  or  even  like 
to  think  of,  because  it  makes  me  dream  of  it. 

At  last  I  was  near  the  top,  and  hope  was  beat- 
ing within  me.  I  labored  hard,  with  both  legs  and 
arms  going  like  a  mill.  The  rush  of  water,  where 
first  it  came  over  the  edge  of  the  fall,  drove  me 
into  the  middle. 

Then  I  made  up  my  mind  to  die  at  last ;  for  so 
my  legs  would  ache  no  more,  and  my  breath  not 
pain  my  heart.  Only  it  did  seem  a  pity  after 
fighting  so  long  to  givo  in.  The  light  was  coming 
upon  me,  and  again  I  fought  toward  it.  Then 
suddenly  I  felt  fresh  air,  and  fell  into  it. 


-^  188  8«- 


n.      LORNA    DOONE 


When  I  came  to  myself  again,  a  little  girl, 
kneeling  at  my  side,  was  rubbing  my  forehead 
with  a  handkerchief. 

''  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  ^^  she  whispered  softly,  as  I 
opened  my  eyes  and  looked  at  her ;  ''  now  you  will 
try  to  be  better,  won't  you?  '^ 

I  had  never  heard  so  sweet  a  sound  as  came 
from  between  her  bright  red  lips  while  there  she 
knelt  and  gazed  at  me.  Neither  had  I  ever  seen 
anything  so  beautiful  as  the  large  dark  eyes  full 
of  pity  and  wonder. 

Thereupon  I  sat  upright,  and  was  much  afraid 
to  speak  to  her,  being  conscious  of  my  country 
brogue,  lest  she  should  cease  to  like  me.  But  she 
clapped  her  hands,  and  made  a  dance  around  my 
back,  and  came  to  me  on  the  other  side,  as  if  I 
were  a  great  plaything. 

''What  is  your  name? ''  she  said,  as  if  she  had 
every  right  to  ask  me;  ''and  how  did  you  come 
here,  and  what  are  these  wet  things  in  this  great 
bag?'' 

"You  had  better  let  them  alone/'  I  said;  "they 


-^  189  8«- 

are  loaches  for  my  mother.  But  I  will  give  you 
some,  if  you  like.^^ 

''  Dear  me,  how  much  you  think  of  them !  Why, 
they  are  only  fish !  But  how  your  feet  are  bleed- 
ing !  Oh,  I  must  tie  them  up  for  you !  And  no 
shoes  or  stockings!  Is  your  mother  very  poor, 
poor  boy  ?^' 

'*No,''  I  said,  being  vexed  at  this;  ''we  are 
rich  enough  to  buy  all  this  great  meadow,  if  we 
chose;  and  here  are  my  shoes  and  stockings/^ 

*'  Why,  they  are  quite  as  wet  as  your  feet ;  and 
I  cannot  bear  to  see  your  feet.  Oh,  please  let  me 
put  them  on  for  you  !    I  will  do  it  very  carefully." 

''Oh,  I  don^t  think  much  of  that!  "  I  replied. 
*'  I  shall  put  some  goose-grease  on  them.  But 
how  you  are  looking  at  me !  I  never  saw  any  one 
like  you  before.  My  name  is  John  Eidd.  What 
is  your  name?  ^' 

"Lorna  Doone,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice, 
as  if  afraid  of  it,  *'if  you  please,  my  name  is 
Lorna  Doone,  and  I  thought  you  must  have 
known  it." 

"Don't  cry,"  I  said,  "whatever  you  do.  I  am 
sure  you  never  did  any  harm.      I  will  give  you 


■^  190  8«- 

all  my  fish,  Lorna,  and  catch  some  more  for 
Mother;  only  don't  be  angry  with  me/' 

**Why  did  you  ever  come  here?''  she  said  at 
last.  ''  Do  you  know  what  they  would  do  to  us  if 
they  found  you  here  with  me?  " 

''  Beat  us,  I  dare  say,  very  hard,  or  me  at  least. 
They  could  never  beat  you." 

'*No;  they  would  kill  us  both,  and  bury  us 
here  by  the  water." 

''  But  what  should  they  kill  me  for?  " 

''  Because  you  have  found  the  way  up  here,  and 
they  never  could  believe  it.  Now  please  go ;  oh, 
please  go !  They  will  kill  us  both  in  a  moment. 
Yes,  I  like  you  very  much"  —  for  I  was  teasing 
her  to  say  it — ''very  much  indeed,  and  I  will 
call  you  John  Ridd,  if  you  like;  only  please  go, 
John.  And  when  your  feet  are  well,  you  know, 
you  can  come  and  tell  me  how  they  are." 

''  But  I  tell  you,  Lorna,  I  like  you  very  much 
indeed,  nearly  as  much  as  Annie,  and  a  great 
deal  more  than  Lizzie.  I  never  saw  any  one  like 
you ;  and  I  must  come  back  again  to-morrow,  and 
so  must  you  to  see  me.  I  will  bring  you  such  lots 
of  things  —  there  are  apples  still,  and  a  thrush 


-^  191  8«- 

I  caught  with  only  one  leg  broken,  and  our  dog 
has  just  had  puppies  —  ^' 

'^  Oh  dear!  they  won't  let  me  have  a  dog. 
There  is  not  a  dog  in  the  valley.  They  say  they 
are  such  noisy  things  —  ^^ 

''Only  put  your  hand  in  mine,  —  what  little 
things  they  are,  Lorna!  —  and  I  will  bring  you 
the  loveliest  dog;  I  will  show  you  how  long  he  is.'^ 

*'  Hush !  ^'  A  shout  came  down  the  valley;  and 
my  heart  was  trembling,  and  Lorna^s  face  was 
changed  from  pleasant  play  to  terror. 

"  Come  with  me  down  the  waterfall,''  I  cried. 
*'I  can  carry  you  easily;  and  my  mother  will 
take  care  of  you." 

"  No !  no ! ''  she  answered,  as  I  took  her  up. 
*'I  will  tell  you  what  to  do.  They  are  only 
looking  for  me.  You  see  that  hole,  —  that  hole 
there?" 

She  pointed  to  a  little  niche  in  a  rock  about 
fifty  yards  away  from  us.  In  the  twilight  I  could 
just  see  it. 

*'Tes,  I  see  it;  but  they  will  see  me  crossing 
the  grass  to  get  there." 

*'Look!    look!"      She    could    hardly    speak. 


^  192  8«- 

'  There  is  a  way  out  from  the  top  of  it ;  they 
would  kill  me  if  I  told  it.  Oh,  here  they  come ! 
I  can  see  them.'^ 

The  little  maid  turned  as  white  as  the  snow 
which  hung  on  the  rocks  above  her,  and  she  looked 
at  the  water  and  then  at  me,  and  she  cried,  "  Oh 
dear!  oh  dear!  ^^     Then  she  began  to  sob. 

But  I  drew  her  behind  the  bushes,  and  close 
down  to  the  water.  Here  they  could  not  see 
either  of  us  from  the  upper  valley,  and  might 
have  sought  a  long  time  for  us,  even  when  they 
came  quite  near,  if  the  trees  had  been  clad  with 
their  summer  clothes. 

Crouching  in  that  hollow  nest,  I  saw  a  dozen 
fierce  men  come  down  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water.  "  Queen  !  Queen  ! ''  they  were  shouting ; 
and  now  and  then,  "Where  is  our  little  queen 
gone?  ^' 

''  They  always  call  me  '  Queen, ^  and  I  am  to  be 
queen  by  and  by,^^  Lorna  whispered  to  me.  "  Oh, 
they  are  crossing  by  the  timber  there,  and  then 
they  are  sure  to  see  us.'' 

**  Stop,''  said  I ;  "now  I  see  what  to  do:  I  must 
get  into  the  water,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep." 


^  193  ^ 

'*To  be  sure,  yes,  away  in  the  meadow.  But 
how  bitter  cold  it  will  be  for  you !  '^ 

She  saw  in  a  moment  the  way  to  do  it,  sooner 
than  I  could  tell  her;  and  there  was  no  time  to 
lose. 

^*Now  remember,  you  must  never  come  again,  ^^ 
she  whispered  over  her  shoulder,  as  she  crept 
away.  ''  Only  I  shall  come  sometimes  —  oh,  here 
they  are !  ^^ 

Hardly  daring  to  breathe,  I  crept  into  the 
water,  and  lay  down  in  it,  with  my  head  between 
two  stones.  Lorna  lay  beneath  a  rock,  thirty  or 
forty  yards  from  me,  feigning  to  be  asleep,  with 
her  hair  covering  her  face. 

Presently  one  of  the  great  rough  men  came 
round  a  corner  upon  her;  and  there  he  stopped 
and  gazed  awhile  at  her.  Then  he  caught  her  up 
in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her. 

''  Here  our  queen  is !  Here^s  the  queen  !  here^s 
the  captain's  daughter !  '^  he  shouted  to  his  com- 
rades, ''fast  asleep  and  hearty!  '^ 

He  set  her  dainty  little  form  upon  his  great 
square  shoulders,  and  her  narrow  feet  in  one 
broad  hand,  and  so  marched  away,  with  the  pur- 


-^  194  ^ 


pie  velvet  of  her  skirt  ruf- 
fling in  his  long  black  beard. 

Going   up    that    darkened 
glen,      little 
Lorna,     riding 
still    the    lar- 
gest and  most  ^ 
fierce  of  them, 
turned  and  put 
up  a  hand  to 
me,  and  I  put 
up  a  hand  to  h€ 
the  thick  of  the 
and  the  willows. 

I  crept  into  a 
warmth,  rubbed  r 
ing  legs  on  some  bark,  an 
longed    for    my    mother' 
fagot  fire. 

Then   as   daylight   san" 
below  the  forget-me-not  c 
stars,  I  knew  that  now  must  be  my  time  to  get 
away,  if  there  were  any  way. 

— Richard  D.  Blackmorb. 


-»9  195  8«- 
THE  BAREFOOT   BOY 


Blessings  on  thee,  little  man, 
Barefoot  boy,  with  cheek  of  tan ! 
With  thy  turned-up  pantaloons, 
And  thy  merry  whistled  tunes ; 
With  thy  red  lip,  redder  still 
Kissed  by  strawberries  on  the  hill ; 
With  the  sunshine  on  thy  face. 
Through  thy  torn  brim's  jaunty  grace : 
From  my  heart  I  give  thee  joy  — 
I  was  once  a  barefoot  boy ! 

0,  for  boyhood's  painless  play, 
Sleep  that  wakes  in  laughing  day. 
Health  that  mocks  the  doctor's  rules, 


-^  196  8«- 

Knowledge  never  learned  of  schools, 
Of  the  wild  bee's  morning  chase, 
Of  the  wild-flower's  time  and  place. 
Flight  of  fowl  and  habitude 
Of  the  tenants  of  the  wood ; 
How  the  tortoise  bears  his  shell, 
How  the  woodchuck  digs  his  cell. 
And  the  ground-mole  sinks  his  well ; 
How  the  robin  feeds  her  young. 
How  the  oriole's  nest  is  hung ; 
Where  the  whitest  lilies  blow, 
Where  the  freshest  berries  grow, 
Where  the  ground-nut  trails  its  vine. 
Where  the  wood-grape's  clusters  shine ; 
Of  the  black  wasp's  cunning  way, 
Mason  of  his  walls  of  clay. 
And  the  architectural  plans 
Of  gray  hornet  artisans  ! 
For,  eschewing  books  and  tasks, 
Nature  answers  all  he  asks ; 
Hand  in  hand  with  her  he  walks, 
Face  to  face  with  her  he  talks. 
Part  and  parcel  of  her  joy,  — 
Blessings  on  the  barefoot  boy ! 

—  John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 


-98  497  SI- 


ALICS THROUGH  THE  LOOKING-GLASS 


5m  broi'der^d 
con'tra  ri  wis^ 
af  fec'tion  at^ 
fid'dlfsticks 


mtirber  ry 
in  dig'nant  ly 
ven'tur^d 
a^k'ward 


ridic'ulj^Siis 
ex  am  i  na'tioi^ 
mon' Straus 
]^on'est  ly 


I.  TWEEDLEDUM  AND  TWEEDLEDEE 


Alice  wandered  on,  talking  to  herself  as  she 
went,  till,  on  turning  a  sharp  corner,  she  came 
upon  two  fat  little  men,   so  suddenly  that  she 


•^  198  8«- 

could  not  help  starting  back.  Tn  another  moment 
she  recovered  herself,  feeling  sure  that  they  must 
be  Tweedledum  and  Tweedledee. 

They  were  standing  under  a  tree,  each  with  an 
arm  round  the  other's  neck,  and  Alice  knew  which 
was  which  in  a  moment,  because  one  of  them 
had  **DUM''  embroidered  on  his  collar,  and  the 
other  **DEE."  "I  suppose  they've  each  got 
'TWEEDLE'  round  at  the  back  of  the  collar,'' 
she  said  to  herself. 

They  stood  so  still  that  she  quite  forgot  they 
were  alive,  and  she  was  just  going  round  to  see  if 
the  word  ''  TWEEDLE ''  was  written  at  the  back 
of  each  collar,  when  she  was  startled  by  a  voice 
coming  from  the  one  marked  "DUM." 

**  If  you  think  we're  waxworks,"  he  said,  "  you 
ought  to  pay,  you  know.  Waxworks  weren't 
made  to  be  looked  at  for  nothing.     Nohow !  " 

**  Contrariwise,"  added  the  one  marked  ''  DEE,' 
'  if  you  think  we're  alive,  you  ought  to  speak." 

*'  I'm  sure  I'm  very  sorry  "  was  all  Alice  could 
say;  for  the  words  of  the  old  song  kept  ringing 
through  her  head  like  the  ticking  of  a  clock,  and 
she  could  hardly  help  saying  them  out  loud :  — 


-*9  199  8e- 

^^  Tweedledum  and  Tweedledee 

Agreed  to  have  a  battle  ; 
For  Tweedledum  said  Tweedledee 
Had  spoiled  his  nice  new  rattle, 

^^Just  then  flew  down  a  monstrous  crow, 

As  black  as  a  tar-barrel; 
Which  frightened  both  the  heroes  so, 
They  quite  forgot  their  quarrel.^' 

*'  I  know  what  you're  thinking  about/'  said 
Tweedledum;  "but  it  isn't  so,  nohow." 

"Contrariwise,"  continued  Tweedledee,  "if  it 
was  so,  it  might  be  ;  and  if  it  were  so,  it  would  be ; 
but  as  it  isn't,  it  isn't.     That's  logic." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  Alice  said  very  politely, 
"  which  is  the  best  way  out  of  this  wood.  It's 
getting  so  dark.     Would  you  tell  me,  please?  " 

But  the  fat  little  men  only  looked  at  each  other 
and  grinned. 

They  looked  so  exactly  like  a  couple  of  great 
schoolboys,  that  Alice  couldn't  help  pointing  her 
finger  at  Tweedledum,  and  saying  "  First  Boy !  " 

"Nohow!"  Tweedledum  cried  out  briskly,  and 
shut  his  mouth  up  again  with  a  snap. 


-*6  200  8<- 

''  Next  Boy !  ^^  said  Alice,  passing  on  to  Tweedle- 
dee,  though  she  felt  quite  certain  he  would  only 
shout  out  "  Contrariwise  !  '^  and  so  he  did. 

''  TouVe  begun  wrong !  '^  cried  Tweedledum. 
*'  The  first  thing  in  a  visit  is  to  say  '  How  do  you 
do?^  and  shake  hands!''  And  here  the  two 
brothers  gave  each  other  a  hug,  and  then  they 
held  out  the  two  hands  that  were  free,  to  shake 
hands  with  her. 

Alice  did  not  like  shaking  hands  with  either  of 
them  first,  for  fear  of  hurting  the  other  one's  feel- 
ings ;  so,  as  the  best  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  she 
took  hold  of  both  hands  at  once.  The  next  mo- 
ment they  were  dancing  round  in  a  ring. 

This  seemed  quite  natural  (she  remembered 
afterward),  and  she  was  not  even  surprised  to 
hear  music  playing.  It  seemed  to  come  from  the 
tree  under  which  they  were  dancing,  and  it  was 
done  (as  well  as  she  could  make  it  out)  by  the 
branches  rubbing  one  across  the  other,  like  fiddles 
and  fiddle-sticks. 

''  But  it  certainly  was  funny  "  (Alice  said  after- 
ward, when  she  was  telling  her  sister  the  history 
of  all  this),   ''to  find  myself  singing  'Here  we  go 


-^  201  B«- 


round  the  mulberry  bush.''  I  don't  know  when  I 
began  it,  but  somehow  I  felt  as  if  I'd  been  sing- 
ing it  a  long,  long  time !  " 

The  other  dancers  were  fat,  and  very  soon  out 
of  breath.  ''Four  times  round  is  enough  for  one 
dance,"  Tweedledum  panted  out,  and  they  left  off 
dancing  as  suddenly  as  they  had  begun.  The 
music  stopped  at  the  same  moment. 

Then  they  let  go  of  Alice's  hands,  and  stood 
looking  at  her  for  a  minute.  There  was  a  rather 
awkward  pause,  as  Alice  didn't  know  how  to  be- 
gin a  conversation  with  people  she  had  just  been 
dancing  with.  "It  would  never  do  to  say  'How 
do  you  do?  ^  now,^^  she  said  to  herself,  "we  seem 
to  have  got  beyond  that,  somehow  !  " 

"I  hope  you're  not  much  tired?"  she  said  at 
last. 

"Nohow.  And  thank  you  very  much  for  ask- 
ing," said  Tweedledum. 

"So  much  obliged!"  added  Tweedledee.  "Do 
you  like  poetry  ?  " 

"  Ye-es,  pretty  well — some  poetry,"  Alice  said 
doubtfully.  "Will  you  tell  me  which  road  leads 
out  of  the  wood?  " 


■^  202  8<- 

*'  What  shall  I  repeat  to  her  ?  '*  said  Tweedledee, 
looking  round  at  Tweedledum  with  great  solemn 
eyes,  and  not  noticing  Alice^s  question. 

"'The  Walrus  and  the  Carpenter'  is  the  long- 
est/' Tweedledum  replied,  giving  his  brother  an 
affectionate  hug. 

Tweedledee  began  instantly :  — 

^^The  sun  was  shining  on  the  sea, 

Shining  with  all  his  might : 
He  did  his  very  best  to  make 

The  billows  smooth  and  bright  — 
And  this  was  odd,  because  it  was 

The  middle  of  the  night. 

^^The  moon  was  shining  sulkily, 

Because  she  thought  the  sun 

Had  got  no  business  to  be  there 

After  the  day  was  done  — 
'Ks  very  rude  of  him,^  she  said, 
^To  come  and  spoil  the  fun  .^ '  " 

Here  Alice  ventured  to  interrupt  him.  "  If  it's 
very  long,"  she  said,  as  politely  as  she  could, 
**  would  you  please  tell  me  first  which  road  — " 


^  203  e«- 

Here  she  checked  herself  in  some  alarm,  at  hear- 
ing something  that  sounded  to  her  like  the  puffing 
of  a  large  steam-engine  in  the  wood  near  them, 
though  she  feared  it  was  more  likely  to  be  a  wild 
beast. 

''  Are  there  any  lions  or  tigers  about  here  ?  ^'  she 
asked  timidly. 

''It's  only  the  Red  King  snoring,''  said  Twee- 
dledee. 

"Come  and  look  at  him!  "  the  brothers  cried. 


and  they  each  took  one  of  Alice's  hands  and  led 
her  up  to  where  the  King  was  sleeping. 

"  Isn't  he  a  lovely  sight?  "  said  Tweedledum. 

Alice  couldn't  say  honestly  that  he  was.     He 


-^  204  8«- 

had  a  tall  red  nightcap  on,  with  a  tassel,  and  he 
was  lying  crumpled  up  into  a  sort  of  untidy  heap, 
and  snoring  loud  — ''  fit  to  snore  his  head  off !  "  as 
Tweedledum  remarked. 

**  I'm  afraid  he'll  catch  cold  with  lying  on  the 
damp  grass,''  said  Alice,  who  was  a  very  thought- 
ful little  girl. 

*'  He's  dreaming  now,"  said  Tweedledee  :  ''  and 
what  do  you  think  he's  dreaming  about?  " 

Alice  said,  "Nobody  can  guess  that." 

"Why,  about 2/0?/.^ "  Tweedledee  exclaimed,  clap- 
ping his  hands.  "And  if  he  left  off  dreaming 
about  you,  where  do  you  suppose  you'd  be?  " 

"Where  I  am  now,  of  course,"  said  Alice. 

"Not  you!"  Tweedledee  retorted.  "You'd  be 
nowhere.  Why,  you're  only  a  sort  of  thing  in  his 
dream ! " 

"If  that  King  was  to  wake,"  added  Tweedle- 
dum, "  you'd  go  out — bang !  —  just  like  a  candle  !  " 

"I  shouldn't!"  Alice  exclaimed  indignantly. 
"Besides,  if  Fm  only  a  sort  of  thing  in  his  dream, 
what  are  you,  I  should  like  to  know?  " 

"Ditto,"  said  Tweedledum. 

"  Ditto,  ditto !  "  cried  Tweedledee. 


^  205  8«- 

He  shouted  this  so  loud  that  Alice  couldn't  help 
saying,  "  Hush!  You'll  be  waking  him,  I'm  afraid, 
if  you  make  so  much  noise." 

*' Well,  it's  no  use  your  talking  about  waking 
him,"  said  Tweedledum,  "when  you're  only  one  of 
the  things  in  his  dream.  You  know  very  well  you 
are  not  real." 

''  I  am  real!  "  said  Alice,  and  began  to  cry. 

''You  won't  make  yourself  a  bit  realler  by 
crying,"  Tweedledee  remarked:  ''there's  nothing 
to  cry  about." 

"If  I  wasn't  real,"  Alice  said  —  half  laughing 
through  her  tears,  it  all  seemed  so  ridiculous  — 
"I  shouldn't  be  able  to  cry." 

"I  hope  you  don't  suppose  those  are  real 
tears?"  Tweedledum  interrupted,  in  a  tone  of 
great  contempt. 

II.     THE    BATTLE 

"  I  know  they're  talking  nonsense,"  Alice 
thought  to  herself ;  "  and  it's  foolish  to  cry  about 
it."  So  she  brushed  away  her  tears,  and  went 
on,  as  cheerfully  as  she  could,  "At  any  rate 
I'd  better  be  getting  out  of  the  wood,  for  really 


-«  206  Be- 
it's coming   on   very  dark.     Do    you   think    it's 
going  to  rain? '' 

Tweedledum  spread  a  large  umbrella  over  him- 
self and  his  brother,  and  looked  up  into  it.  ''  No, 
I  don't  think  it  is,"  he  said;  ''at  least  —  not 
under  here.     Nohow." 

*'  But  it  may  rain  outside  ?  " 

''  It  may  —  if  it  chooses,"  said  Tweedledee ;  ''we 
have  no  objection  :  Contrariwise." 

"Selfish  things!"  thought  Alice,  and  she  was 
just  going  to  say  "good-night"  and  leave  them, 
when  Tweedledum  sprang  out  from  under  the 
umbrella  and  seized  her  by  the  wrist. 

"  Do  you  see  that?  "  he  said,  in  a  voice  choking 
with  passion,  and  his  eyes  grew  large  and  yellow 
all  in  a  moment,  as  he  pointed  with  a  trembling 
finger  at  a  small  white  thing  lying  under  a  tree. 

"It's  only  a  rattle,"  Alice  said,  after  a  careful 
examination  of  the  little  white  thing.  "  Not  a 
YdiiilQ-snake,  you  know,"  she  added  hastily,  think- 
ing that  he  was  frightened;  "only  an  old  rattle  — 
quite  old  and  broken." 

"  I  knew  it  was!  "  cried  Tweedledum,  beginning 
to  stamp  about  wildly  and  tear  his  hair.     "It's 


■<  207  8«- 


^mM^^  ^ 


spoilt,  of  course ! ''  Here  lie  looked  at  Tweedledee, 
who  immediately  sat  down  on  the  ground,  and 
tried  to  hide  himself  under  the  umbrella. 

Alice  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  said,  in  a 
soothing  tone,  '*  You  needn't  be  so  angry  about  an 
old  rattle/' 

''But  it  isnH  old!''  Tweedledum  cried,  in  a 
greater  fury  than  ever.  "  It's  new,  I  tell  you  —  I 
bought  it  yesterday  —  my  nice  new  BATTLE!'' 
and  his  voice  rose  to  a  perfect  scream. 

All  this  time  Tweedledee  was  trying  his  best  to 
fold  up  the  umbrella,  with  himself  in  it;  which  was 
such  an  extraordinary  thing  to  do,  that  it  quite 
took  off  Alice's  attention  from  the  angry  brother. 


^  208  ^ 

But  he  could^nt  quite  succeed,  and  it  ended 
in  his  rolling  over,  bundled  up  in  the  umbrella, 
with  only  his  head  out ;  and  there  he  lay,  opening 
and  shutting  his  mouth  and  his  large  eyes  — 
''  looking  more  like  a  fish  than  anything  else," 
Alice  thought. 

'^  Of  course  you  agree  to  have  a  battle?" 
Tweedledum  said,  in  a  calmer  tone. 

''  I  suppose  so,"  the  other  replied  as  he  crawled 
out  of  the  umbrella;  "only  she  must  help  us  to 
dress  up,  you  know." 

So  the  two  brothers  went  off  hand-in-hand  into 
the  wood,  and  returned  in  a  minute  with  their 
arms  full  of  things  —  such  as  bolsters,  blankets, 
hearth-rugs,  table-cloths,  dish-covers,  and  coal- 
scuttles. ''  I  hope  you're  a  good  hand  at  pinning 
and  tying  strings?"  Tweedledum  remarked. 
*'  Every  one  of  these  things  has  got  to  go  on, 
somehow  or  other." 

Alice  said  afterward  she  had  never  seen  such 
a  fuss  made  about  anything  in  all  her  life  —  the 
way  those  two  bustled  about  —  and  the  quantity 
of  things  they  put  on  —  and  the  trouble  they 
gave  her  in  tying  strings  and  fastening  buttons 


-^  209  y- 

— ''  Eeally  they'll  be  more  like  bundles  of  old 
clothes  than  anything  else  by  the  time  they're 
ready ! ''  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  arranged  a 
bolster  round  the  neck  of  Tweedledee,  ''to  keep 
his  head  from  being  cut  oflf/'  as  he  said. 

'*  You  know/'  he  added  very  gravely,  ''it's  one  of 
the  most  serious  things  that  can  possibly  happen 
to  one  in  a  battle  —  to  get  one's  head  cut  off." 

Alice  laughed  aloud ;  but  she  managed  to  turn 
it  into  a  cough,  for  fear  of  hurting  his  feelings. 

"Do  I  look  very  pale?"  said  Tweedledum, 
coming  up  to  have  his  helmet  tied  on.    (He  called 


-^  210  8€- 

it  a  helmet,  though  it  certainly  looked  more  like 
a  saucepan.) 

*^  Well  —  yes  —  a  little,^^  Alice  replied  gently. 

**I'm  very  brave,  generally,"  he  went  on  in  a 
low  voice;  ''only,  to-day  I  happen  to  have  a 
headache." 

''And  Fve  got  a  toothache!  "  said  Tweedledee, 
who  had  overheard  the  remark.  ''  Fm  far  worse 
than  you !  " 

''  Then  you'd  better  not  fight  to-day,"  said  Alice, 
thinking  it  a  good  opportunity  to  make  peace. 

*'  We  must  have  a  bit  of  a  fight,  but  I  don't  care 
about  going  on  long,"  said  Tweedledum.  ''What 
is  the  time  now?  " 

Tweedledee  looked  at  his  watch,  and  said, 
**  Half -past  four." 

''Let's  fight  till  six,  and  then  have  dinner," 
said  Tweedledum. 

u  Yery  well,"  the  other  said,  rather  sadly;  "  and 
she  can  watch  us — only  you'd  better  not  come  very 
close,"  he  added;  "I  generally  hit  everything  I 
can  see  —  when  I  get  really  excited." 

"And  /  hit  everything  within  reach,"  cried 
Tweedledum,  "  whether  I  can  see  it  or  not!  " 


^  211  8«- 

Alice  laughed.  "  You  must  hit  the  trees  pretty 
often,  I  should  think,"  she  said. 

Tweedledum  looked  round  him  with  a  satisfied 
smile.  ''I  don't  suppose,''  he  said,  ''there'll  be 
a  tree  left  standing,  for  ever  so  far  round  by  the 
time  we've  finished !  " 

"  And  all  about  a  rattle !  "  said  Alice,  hoping  to 
make  them  ashamed  of  fighting  for  such  a  trifle. 

"I  shouldn't  have  minded  it  so  much,"  said 
Tweedledum,  "if  it  hadn't  been  a  new  one." 

"I  wish  the  monstrous  crow  would  come!" 
thought  Alice. 

"There's  only  one  sword,  you  know,"  Tweedle- 
dum said  to  his  brother ;  "  but  you  can  have  the 
umbrella,  it's  quite  as  sharp.  Only  we  must  begin 
quick.     It's  getting  as  dark  as  it  can." 

It  was  getting  dark  so  suddenly  that  Alice 
thought  there  must  be  a  thunder-storm  coming  on. 
"What  a  thick  black  cloud  that  is!"  she  said. 
"  And  how  fast  it  comes  !     Why,  it's  got  wings  !  " 

"It's  the  crow !  "  Tweedledum  cried  out  in  a 
shrill  voice  of  alarm ;  and  the  two  brothers  took 
to  their  heels  and  were  out  of  sight  in  a  moment. 

— Lewis  Carroll. 


-^  212  8«- 


THE  LAMP   OF  ALADDIN 


ma  gi'cian 

di  rec'ted 

mag'i  cal 

At'vi  can 

da/n'ti^s 

em'er  aids 

pre  ten'ded 

des  paj^r' 

ge'ni^ 

pal' a  ces 

di'a  monds 

gold'smith 

pru'den^^ 

im  pa'tient 

I.      THE    MAGICIAN 

nich^ 

Aladdin  was  the  son  of  a  poor  tailor  who  lived 
in  the  capital  of  China.  He  was  very  careless 
and  idle,  and  liked  play  much  better  than  work. 

His  father  died  while  he  was  quite  young,  but 
Aladdin  was  not  ashamed  to  let  his  mother  support 
him. 

One  day  as  he  was  playing  in  the  street,  a 
stranger,  passing  by,  stopped  and  looked  at  him. 
This  man  was  a  famous  African  magician.  After 
looking  at  the  boy  for  some  time,  he  went  up  to 
him  and  said,  "My  boy,  are  you  not  the  son  of 
Mustapha,  the  tailor?'' 

''Yes,''  said  Aladdin,  **but  my  father  has  been 
dead  for  some  time." 


-^  213  8«- 

The  magician  threw  his  arms  around  the  boy^s 
neck,  and  pretended  to  weep.  ''  Alas !  ^'  he  cried 
^'  I  am  your  father's  brother.  I  have  been  many 
years  abroad ;  and  now,  when  I  have  come  home 
with  the  hope  of  seeing  him,  you  tell  me  that  he 
is  dead !  '^ 

Then  asking  Aladdin  where  his  mother  lived, 
he  gave  the  lad  a  handful  of  silver,  and  told  him 
that  he  would  come  and  sup  with  him. 

Aladdin  ran  home  to  his  mother,  and  told  her 
the  story.  The  woman  said  that  she  had  never 
heard  his  father  speak  of  a  brother ;  but  as  the 
stranger  had  given  him  so  much  money,  she  would 
prepare  the  supper. 

In  the  evening  the  stranger  came,  bringing  with 
him  all  kinds  of  fine  fruits,  and  they  sat  down  to 
supper. 

While  they  were  eating,  the  magician  pretended 
to  admire  Aladdin  very  much.  "  He  must  look 
like  his  father, '^  he  said,  ''for  I  knew  him  the 
moment  I  saw  him.''  Then  turning  to  the  boy, 
he  asked  him  what  trade  he  had  chosen. 

Aladdin,  who  was  ashamed  that  he  could  not 
answer  such  a  question,  hung  down  his  head,  and 


-^  214  8«- 

blushed.  His  mother,  however,  replied  that  he 
was  an  idle  fellow,  who  would  do  nothing  but  play 
in  the  streets. 

*'This  is  not  well,  my  child,"  the  magician 
answered.  You  must  think  of  helping  yourself, 
and  earning  a  living.  I  will  help  you  as  much  as 
I  can.     I  will  take  a  shop,  and  furnish  it  for  you." 

Aladdin  was  delighted  with  the  idea,  for  he 
thought  there  was  very  little  work  in  keeping  a 
shop.  He  thanked  his  new  uncle,  and  told  him 
that  he  should  like  that  better  than  anything 
else. 

The  next  day  the  magician  called  upon  them 
very  early  in  the  morning.  He  took  Aladdin  out 
with  him  and  gave  him  handsome  clothes,  and  a 
pocketful  of  money.  He  also'  took  him  to  visit 
the  shops,  and  in  the  evening  gave  him  a  feast. 

When  Aladdin's  mother  saw  him  so  handsomely 
dressed,  she  was  very  happy.  ''  My  dear  Brother," 
she  said  to  the  magician,  "how  can  I  thank  you 
for  your  kindness?  " 

The  magician  replied,  ''Aladdin  is  a  good  boy. 
We  shall  no  doubt  be  proud  of  him  some  day. 
As  to-morrow  will  be  Friday,  and  the  shops  will 


-«  215  ^ 


THE    LAMP    OF  ALADDIN 


-»8  216  9«- 

be  closed,  I  will  take  the  lad  to  see  the  gardens 
outside  the  town/' 

In  the  morning  Aladdin  was  so  impatient  to  set 
out,  that  he  could  hardly  wait  for  his  uncle  to 
come. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  him  he  ran  to  meet  him.  The 
magician  greeted  him  kindly,  and  said  with  a 
smile,  "You  will  see  many  wonderful  things  to- 
day.'^ 

They  went  first  to  the  gardens  belonging  to 
the  palaces.  Aladdin,  never  having  seen  anything 
so  beautiful,  was  delighted,  and  wandered  about 
until  he  wag  tired. 

Then  the  magician  proposed  that  they  should 
sit  down  and  rest.  He  gave  Aladdin  some  cakes 
and  fruit  which  he  had  brought  in  a  basket,  and 
when  he  had  eaten  all  that  he  wished  they  walked 
on  through  the  country. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  valley  between  two 
high  mountains.  The  magician  told  Aladdin  he 
would  show  him  some  wonderful  things.  He  then 
collected  some  dry  sticks  and  made  a  fire,  into 
which  he  cast  a  perfume,  while  he  pronounced 
some  magical  words. 


-^  217  8«- 


The  earth  immediately  trembled  and  opened, 
showing  a  stone  with  a  ring  in  it.  Aladdin  was 
so  frightened  at  what  he  saw,  that  he  would  have 
run  away,  but  the  magician  caught  and  held  him. 

''  Under  this  stone, '^  said  the  magician,  ''  a  treas- 
ure is  hidden,  which  may  be  yours  if  you  will  do 
exactly  as  I  tell  you.''  Then,  placing  a  ring  on 
the  boy's  finger,  he  told  him  to  pronounce  the  name 
of  his  father  and  grandfather  and  raise  the  stone. 
Aladdin  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  removed  the 
stone  with  great  ease;  then  he  saw  at  his  feet  a 


-^  218  9<- 

hole  many  feet  deep,  and  steps  to  descend  into  the 
earth. 

'*  Listen  carefully  to  what  I  am  going  to  say  to 
you/'  said  the  magician.  ''  Though  I  have  opened 
this  cave,  I  cannot  enter  it ;  but  you  may  do  so. 
You  will  find  at  the  foot  of  these  steps  three  great 
halls,  in  each  of  which  you  will  see  a  large  number 
of  chests  full  of  gold  and  silver.  Be  sure  you  do 
not  touch  them.  If  you  do,  you  will  die  instantly. 
Next  you  will  come  to  a  garden.  Here  you  will 
be  perfectly  safe,  and  may  handle  anything  you 
see.  At  the  end  of  the  hall  you  will  find  a  lamp 
burning  in  a  niche.  Take  the  lamp  down,  throw 
away  the  wick,  pour  out  the  oil,  put  the  lamp  in 
your  bosom,  and  bring  it  to  me.'' 

Aladdin  obeyed  his  supposed  uncle.  He  went 
carefully  through  the  halls ;  crossed  the  garden ; 
secured  the  lamp,  and  then  began  to  look  about 
him. 

He  found  the  trees  were  loaded  with  fruits  of 
many  colors ;  some  white,  others  red,  green,  blue, 
purple,  and  yellow.  Aladdin  thought  they  were 
only  colored  glass,  but  they  were  so  beautiful  that 
he  filled  his  pockets  with  some  of  each  kind.     He 


-^  219  8«- 

then  returned  throiigli  the  halls ;  ascended  the 
steps,  and  called  to  his  uncle  to  pull  him  out  of 
the  cave. 

The  magician  had  no  intention  of  helping 
Aladdin  out  of  the  cave ;  so  when  the  boy  called 
for  help  he  called  as  loudly  for  the  lamp. 

Aladdin  would  have  given  it  to  him  if  it  had 
not  been  buried  under  the  glass  fruits  he  had 
picked  from  the  trees.  He  was  ashamed  to  tell 
this  to  his  uncle,  so  he  called  again  and  again  for 
help. . 

Suddenly  the  magician  turned  his  head,  and  saw 
some  people  coming  toward  him  from  the  city. 
He  was  so  much  afraid  of  being  seen  by  them, 
and  so  angry  at  Aladdin  for  not  giving  him  the 
lamp  when  he  demanded  it,  that  he  pronounced 
two  magical  words,  which  replaced  the  stone  and 
closed  the  earth. 

In  this  way  he  lost  all  hope  of  obtaining  the 
lamp,  since  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  open  the 
cave  again.  So  he  set  off  at  once  for  his  own 
country,  taking  care  not  to  return  to  the  city,  for 
fear  some  one  would  ask  him  about  his  pretended 
nephew. 


-^  220  S«- 


II.    THE    GENIE 


Aladdin  was  very  much  frightened  to  find  him- 
self shut  into  the  cave.  He  cried  out,  and  called 
to  his  uncle,  offering  to  give  him  the  lamp  at  once ; 
but  it  was  too  late.  As  the  cave  was  dark,  he 
thought  of  returning  through  the  halls  into  the 
garden.     Alas,  the  door  was  shut ! 

In  his  distress,  he  clasped  his  hands  together, 
and  rubbed  the  ring  which  the  magician  had  put 
on  his  finger. 

Immediately  an  enormous  genie  rose  out  of  the 
earth,  with  a  torch  in  his  hand,  which  lighted  the 
cave  as  if  the  sun  were  shining  in  it.  **  What  do 
you  wish?''  he  said.  *'I  am  ready  to  obey  you 
as  your  slave,  while  you  wear  that  ring.'' 

At  another  time  Aladdin  would  have  been 
frightened  at  such  a  sight,  but  despair  gave  him 
courage.  He  replied,  ''  I  charge  you,  by  the  ring, 
if  you  are  able,  to  release  me  from  this  place." 

He  had  no  sooner  spoken,  than  the  earth  opened ; 
the  genie  lifted  him  up  to  the  surface,  and  dis- 
appeared. The  earth  closed  again  at  the  same 
instant. 


-98  221  8«- 


Aladdin  was  delighted  to  be  free.  He  found 
his  way  home  without  much  difficulty,  and  told 
his  mother  the  story  of  his  adventures. 

The  next  morning  when  Aladdin  waked  up  he 
was  very  hungry,  and  called  to  his  mother  for 
some  breakfast. 

''  Alas !  my  child,''  she  said,  '^  I  have  been  so 
unhappy  because  you  did  not  return,  that  I  have 
not  been  able  to  do  any  work.     Now  I  have  no 


-^  222  B^ 

money  to  buy  food ;  and  all  I  had  in  the  house 
you  ate  yesterday.  But,'^  she  added,  **here  is 
the  lamp  you  brought  home,  and  which  nearly 
cost  you  your  life;  it  seems  to  be  a  very  good 
one.  I  will  clean  it,  and  perhaps  we  can  sell  it 
for  a  little  money. '^ 

So  she  took  some  sand,  and  began  to  rub  the 
lamp,  when,  in  an  instant,  an  enormous  genie 
stood  before  her,  and  said,  "  What  do  you  wish  ? 
I  am  ready  to  obey  you  as  your  slave.  I  am  the 
slave  of  all  those  who  hold  that  lamp  in  their 
hands.'' 

Aladdin's  mother  fainted  at  the  sight  of  the 
genie;  but  her  son  caught  the  lamp  out  of  her 
hand,  and  said,  *'  I  am  hungry ;  bring  me  some- 
thing to  eat.'' 

The  genie  disappeared;  and  returned  with  a 
large  silver  basin  containing  twelve  silver  plates 
full  of  the  choicest  dainties.  Having  placed  these 
things  on  the  table,  he  disappeared. 

When  Aladdin's  mother  recovered,  she  was  very 
much  pleased  to  see  so  much  food.  But  when  her 
son  told  her  that  rubbing  the  lamp  had  caused 
the  genie  to  appear,  she  said,   ''Let  us   sell  it 


^  223  8«- 

at  once.  I  do  not  care  to  have  such  a  thing  in 
my  house/' 

Young  as  Aladdin  was,  he  had  more  prudence. 
''No,  indeed,'^  he  replied.  ''The  lamp  will  be 
very  useful  to  us.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  genie, 
and  I  will  rub  the  lamp  when  you  are  not  at 
home.'' 

"As  you  please,"  said  his  mother,  "but  I  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

The  next  day,  the  provisions  being  all  gone, 
Aladdin  took  one  of  the  plates,  and  went  to  a 
merchant  to  sell  it.  The  merchant  saw  that  it 
was  of  the  purest  silver,  but  thinking  the  owner 
did  not  know  its  value,  he  offered  a  piece  of  gold 
for  it. 

Aladdin  thought  he  had  made  a  good  bargain. 
He  gave  the  money  to  his  mother,  and  they  lived 
upon  it  as  long  as  it  lasted. 

Aladdin  then  sold  another  plate,  and  so  on  till 
they  had  only  the  basin  left.  This  being  very 
large,  the  merchant  gave  him  two  pieces  for  it, 
which  supported  them  for  a  long  time. 

When  all  the  money  was  spent,  Aladdin  again 
rubbed  the  lamp,  and  the  genie  supplied  the  table 


-«  224  8<- 

with  another  silver  basin  and  the  same  number  of 
silver  plates  filled  with  dainties. 

The  provisions  being  eaten,  Aladdin  was  going, 
as  before,  with  one  of  the  plates  to  the  merchant, 
when  a  goldsmith  called  to  him  and  asked  him  if 
he  had  anything  to  sell.  ''You  go  often,^'  said 
he,  ''to  that  merchant  who  is  dishonest;  if  you 
deal  with  him,  he  will  certainly  cheat  you.'' 

Aladdin  showed  his  plate.  The  goldsmith 
weighed  it,  and  gave  him  sixty  pieces  of  gold 
for  it.  The  lad  thanked  the  honest  shopkeeper, 
to  whom  he  afterward  sold  the  other  plates  and 
the  basin. 

Soon  he  became  acquainted  with  the  merchants 
and  goldsmiths  of  the  city,  and  learned  the  value 
of  the  stones  he  had  brought  from  the  cave. 
Instead  of  being  bits  of  colored  glass,  they  were 
diamonds,  pearls,  emeralds,  and  rubies. 

Aladdin  was  now  very  rich,  but  he  was  no 
longer  lazy  and  selfish.  He  spent  all  of  his  time 
working  and  studying,  and  lived  very  happily 
with  his  mother  in  their  old  home  for  many  years. 

— Ababian  Nights'  Entertainments. 


-^  225  8«- 


THE   STORY   OF  JOSEPH 

Is'rael  Ish'ma  elites  she^v^s 

Reu'ben  Mid'i  an  it^s  pros'per^us 

E  gyp'tian  Pha'r^oji  rebuked' 

breth'ren  myrrh  wil'derness 

Now  Israel  loved  Joseph  more  than  all  his 
children,  because  he  was  the  son  of  his  old  age : 
and  he  made  him  a  coat  of  many  colours. 

And  his  brethren  saw  that  their  father  loved 
him  more  than  all  his  brethren ;  and  they  hated 
him,  and  could  not  speak  peaceably  unto  him. 

And  Joseph  dreamed  a  dream,  and  he  told  it  to 
his  brethren ;  and  they  hated  him  yet  the  more. 

And  he  said  unto  them.  Hear,  I  pray  you,  this 
dream  which  I  have  dreamed : 

For,  behold,  we  were  binding  sheaves  in  the 
field,  and,  lo,  my  sheaf  arose,  and  also  stood  up- 
right; and,  behold,  your  sheaves  came  round 
about,  and  bowed  down  to  my  sheaf. 

And  his  brethren  said  to  him,  Shalt  thou  in- 
deed reign  over  us?     Or  shalt  thou  indeed  have 


^  226  8<- 

power  over  us?  And  they  hated  him  yet  the 
more  for  his  dream,  and  for  his  words. 

And  he  dreamed  yet  another  dream,  and  told  it 
to  his  brethren,  and  said.  Behold,  I  have  dreamed 
yet  a  dream ;  and,  behold,  the  sun  and  the 
moon  and  eleven  stars  bowed  down  to  me. 

And  he  told  it  to  his  father,  and  to  his  breth- 
ren ;  and  his  father  rebuked  him,  and  said  unto 
him,  What  is  this  dream  that  thou  hast  dreamed  ? 
Shall  I  and  thy  mother  and  thy  brethren  indeed 
come  to  bow  down  ourselves  to  thee  to  the  earth  ? 

And  his  brethren  envied  him;  but  his  father 
kept  the  saying  in  mind. 

And  his  brethren  went  to  feed  their  father^s 
flock. 

And  Israel  said  unto  Joseph,  Do  not  thy  breth- 
ren feed  the  flock?  come,  and  I  will  send  thee  unto 
them.     And  he  said  to  him.  Here  am  I. 

And  he  said  to  him.  Go  now,  see  whether  it  be 
well  with  thy  brethren,  and  well  with  the  flock ; 
and  bring  me  word  again. 

And  Joseph  went  after  his  brethren,  and  found 
them. 

And  they  saw  him  afar  off,  and  even  before  he 


-»8  227  8^ 

came  near  unto  them,  they  conspired  against  him 
to  slay  him. 

And  they  said  one  to  another,  Behold,  this 
dreamer  cometh. 

Come  now  therefore,  and  let  us  slay  him,  and 
cast  him  into  one  of  the  pits,  and  we  will  say. 
An  evil  beast  hath  devoured  him :  and  we  shall 
see  what  will  become  of  his  dreams. 

And  Eeuben  heard  it,  and  delivered  him  out  of 
their  hands ;  and  said,  Let  us  not  take  his  life. 

And  Eeuben  said  unto  them.  Shed  no  blood; 
cast  him  into  this  pit  that  is  in  the  wilderness, 
but  lay  no  hand  upon  him :  that  he  might  deliver 
him  out  of  their  hand,  to  restore  him  to  his 
father. 

And  it  came  to  pass,  when  Joseph  was  come 
unto  his  brethren,  that  they  stripped  Joseph  of 
his  coat,  the  coat  of  many  colours  that  was  on 
him; 

And  they  took  him,  and  cast  him  into  the  pit : 
and  the  pit  was  empty,  there  was  no  water  in  it. 

And  they  sat  down  to  eat  bread :  and  they  lifted 
up  their  eyes  and  looked,  and,  behold,  a  travelling 
company  of   Ishmaelites  came  from  Gilead,  with 


-^  228  8«- 

their  camels  bearing  spicery  and  balm  and  myrrh^ 
going  to  carry  it  down  to  Egypt. 

And  Judah  said  unto  his  brethren,  What  profit 
is  it  if  we  slay  our  brother  and  conceal  his  blood  ? 

Come,  and  let  us  sell  him  to  the  Ishmaelites,  and 
let  not  our  hand  be  upon  him ;  for  he  is  our  brother, 
our  flesh.     And  his  brethren  hearkened  unto  him. 

And  there  passed  by  Midianites,  merchantmen  ; 
and  they  drew  and  lifted  up  Joseph  out  of  the  pit, 
and  sold  Joseph  to  the  Ishmaelites  for  twenty  pieces 
of  silver.     And  they  brought  Joseph  into  Egypt. 

And  Reuben  returned  into  the  pit;  and,  behold, 
Joseph  was  not  in  the  pit ;  and  he  rent  his  clothes. 

And  he  returned  unto  his  brethren,  and  said, 
The  child  is  not ;  and  I,  whither  shall  I  go  ? 

And  they  took  Joseph^s  coat,  and  killed  a  he- 
goat,  and  dipped  the  coat  in  the  blood ; 

And  they  sent  the  coat  of  many  colours,  and 
they  brought  it  to  their  father;  and  said.  This 
have  we  found:  know  now  whether  it  be  thy  son's 
coat  or  not. 

And  he  knew  it,  and  said.  It  is  my  son's  coat ; 
an  evil  beast  hath  devoured  him ;  Joseph  is  with- 
out doubt  torn  in  pieces. 


-»8  229  9«- 

And  Jacob  rent  his  garments,  and  put  sackcloth 
upon  his  loins,  and  mourned  for  his  son  many 
days. 

And  all  his  sons  and  all  his  daughters  rose  up 
to  comfort  him ;  but  he  refused  to  be  comforted ; 
and  he  said,  For  I  will  go  down  to  the  grave  to 
my  son  mourning.     And  his  father  wept  for  him. 

And  the  Midianites  sold  Joseph  into  Egypt 
unto  Potiphar,  an  officer  of  Pharaoh's,  the  captain 
of  the  guard. 

And  the  Lord  was  with  Joseph,  and  he  was  a 
prosperous  man ;  and  he  was  in  the  house  of  his 
master  the  Egyptian. 

And  his  master  saw  that  the  Lord  was  with 
him,  and  that  the  Lord  made  all  that  he  did  to 
prosper  in  his  hand. 

And  Joseph  found  grace  in  his  sight,  and  he 
ministered  unto  him :  and  he  made  him  overseer 
over  his  house,  and  all  that  he  had  he  put  into 
his  hand. 

— Genesis  xxxvn  3-36;  xxxrx  2-4. 


NOTES    ON    THE    STORIES   AND   POEMS 

(Tb  be  read  by  teachers  and  pupils) 

Alice  in  Wonderland  was  written  by  Lewis  Carroll  (Charles 
Dodgson)  (1832-1898),  an  English  author. 

This  story,  which  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  all  stories 
for  children,  describes  the  adventures  of  a  little  girl  who 
follows  a  rabbit  into  Wonderland.  Among  her  strange  com- 
rades of  that  land  are  the  White  Rabbit,  the  Cheshire  Cat, 
the  Walrus,  and  the  Carpenter;  as  well  as  the  March  Hare  and 
the  Hatter,  which  afford  us  entertainment  in  this  selection. 

Nurse's  Song.  This  poem  was  written  by  William  Blake 
(1757-1827),  who  wrote  delightfully  for  children,  in  "  Songs  of 
Innocence."  Among  the  "Songs"  are  "The  Child  and  the 
Piper,"  "The  Laughing  Song,"  and  "The  Little  Lamb." 
These  poems  may  well  be  read  to  the  children. 

Lullaby  of  an  Infant  Chief  was  written  by  Sir  Walter  Scott 
(1771-1832),  the  celebrated  author  of  the  Waverley  Novels, 
and  of  many  beautiful  poems. 

The  Snow-Image  is  one  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  (1804- 
1864)  charming  stories  for  children.  He  was  one  of  the  two  or 
three  most  celebrated  American  writers  of  prose  fiction,  and  he 
wrote  for  both  old  and  young.  The  children  should  also  read 
"Tangle wood  Tales"  and  "  Grandfather's  Chair." 

281 


-^  232  8«- 

At  the  Back  of  the  North  Wind  was  written  by  George  Mac- 
donald  (1824-  ),  a  Scotch  novelist,  who  wrote  also  several 
stories  for  children.  Among  them  are  "The  Princess  and 
Curdie"  and  "The  Princess  and  the  Goblin." 

"  At  the  Back  of  the  North  Wind  "  tells  the  story  of  a  little 
boy  who,  in  a  severe  illness,  imagined  himself  on  a  journey  to 
this  unreal  country.  After  his  return  and  partial  recovery  he 
spent  his  life  in  helping  others  in  his  own  peculiar  way. 

Tiny  Tim's  Christmas  Dinner.  Charles  Dickens  (1812-1870), 
one  of  the  most  noted  of  English  novelists,  wrote  many  stories 
which  children  understand  and  enjoy.  His  characters  seem  to 
live  and  move,  and  the  reader  almost  unconsciously  numbers 
them  among  his  friends.  "  Little  Nell,"  "  David  Copperfield," 
"  Paul  Dombey,"  "  Pip,"  and  "  Oliver  Twist,"  are  some  of  his 
child  creations,  and  their  fortunes  and  misfortunes  appeal 
keenly  to  the  child  reader. 

The  Little  Lame  Prince  was  written  by  Dinah  Mulock  Craik 
(1826-1887),  an  English  author.  This  selection  tells  how  a 
prince  who  was  confined  in  a  lonely  tower  by  a  cruel  uncle  was 
amused  and  instructed  by  his  fairy  godmother.  The  children 
should  read  the  entire  story  to  learn  of  his  escape  from  impris- 
onment and  his  noble  life  when  in  the  world. 

Jackanapes  was  written  by  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing  (1841- 
1885),  an  Englishwoman,  who  wrote  charming  stories  for  both 
old  and  young.  The  little  lad  who  rode  the  gypsy's  pony  so 
fearlessly  showed  his  courage  in  battle  when  he  grew  older, 
and  saved  the  life  of  a  friend. 

Rollo  delighted  many  children  of  an  earlier  generation,  when 


-^  233  B^ 

children's  books  were  rare ;  and  they  followed  with  interest  his 
school  life  and  home  life,  his  work  and  play,  and  his  travels  in 
foreign  lands.  The  books  were  written  by  Jacob  Abbott 
(1803-1879),  an  American  author,  who  wrote  also  many  other 
books  for  children. 

The  Water-Babies,  a  Fairy  Tale  for  a  Land-Baby,  was  writ- 
ten by  Charles  Kingsley  (1819-1875),  an  English  author,  who 
wrote  also  "  Greek  Heroes,"  and  other  stories  for  children. 

Tom,  the  water-baby,  was  a  little  chimney-sweep  who  became 
so  frightened  over  a  chance  misdoing  of  his  own,  that  he 
jumped  into  a  brook.  Here  he  lived  happily,  making  many 
friends  and  some  foes  among  the  water-folk,  until  he  finally 
journeyed  to  the  sea  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  other  water- 
babies. 

Gluck's  Visitor.  This  is  a  selection  from  "  The  King  of  the 
Golden  River,"  a  delightful  story  for  children,  by  John  E-uskin 
(1819-1900),  who  wrote  many  books  in  most  beautiful  English 
about  matters  in  which  he  thought  he  could  help  men  and 
women. 

This  tale  tells  how,  after  the  destruction  of  the  Treasure 
Valley,  little  Gluck  and  his  two  brothers  attempt  to  turn  the 
river  which  flowed  from  the  ruined  valley  into  gold,  and  thus 
regain  their  wealth.  The  wicked  brothers  lose  their  lives,  but 
Gluck  succeeds. 

Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod.  Eugene  Field  (1850-1895),  an 
American  author,  wrote  delightful  stories  and  poems  for  chil- 
dren. Two  collections  of  his  poems  are  called  "With  Trumpet 
and  Drum,"  and  "Love  Songs  of  Childhood."     Many  of  the 


-^  234  8«- 

verses  were  written  for  or  about  his  own  children,  whom  he 
dearly  loved. 

Cosette  is  a  selection  from  the  famous  novel  "  Les  Mis^rables," 
written  by  the  French  author,  Victor  Hugo  (1802-1885). 
"  Les  Mis^rables  "  is  in  no  way  a  story  for  children,  but  these 
few  pages  from  the  book  illustrate  the  author's  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  even  in  little  folks,  and  his  power  in  picturing 
the  hopes  and  fears  of  childhood. 

Maggie  Tulliver  is  a  selection  from  "  The  Mill  on  the  Floss." 
George  Eliot  (1819-1880),  who  wrote  this  story,  was  one  of  the 
most  successful  of  women  story-tellers.  Her  real  name  was 
Marian  Evans.  "The  Mill  on  the  Floss"  is  not  a  story  for 
children,  but  the  first  part  of  the  book  describes  the  childhood 
of  the  author,  and  has  all  the  interest  which  centres  about  an 
artistic  narrative  of  childhood. 

Alice  through  the  Looking-Glass.  This  is  the  same  little 
girl  who  wandered  through  Wonderland.  In  this  story  Alice 
passes  in  a  dream  through  a  looking-glass  into  a  strange  land, 
where  she  meets  equally  strange  people  and  animals.  The  Red 
Queen  and  the  White  Queen,  Humpty  Dumpty,  and  the  Jab- 
berwock  have  come  to  be  familiar  characters  in  child  literature. 

The  Barefoot  Boy  was  written  by  John  Greenleaf  Whittier 
(1807-1892),  the  Quaker  poet.  This  poem  describes  the  sur- 
roundings of  his  own  boyhood,  which  was  spent  on  a  farm  near 
Haverhill,  Massachusetts. 

Lorna  Doone  was  written  by  Richard  D.  Blackmore  (1825- 
1900),  an  English  novelist.  The  story  is  not  one  for  children, 
but  it  contains  many  beautiful  descriptions  of  English  scenery. 


^  235  8«- 

and  this  account  of  a  boy's  adventures  interests  both  boys  and 
girls. 

Casablanca.  Mrs.  Felicia  D.  Hemans  (1793-1835),  was  an 
Englishwoman  who  wrote  many  poems,  two  of  which  have 
made  her  name  famous:  "  Casabianca,"  and  "The  Landing  of 
the  Pilgrims."  The  former  describes  an  incident  in  the  Battle 
of  the  Nile,  in  1798.  Casablanca's  name  was  Giacomo  Jocante 
Casablanca.  His  father  was  captain  of  one  of  the  ships, 
li  Orient^  in  the  French  fleet,  and  both  father  and  son  lost  their 
lives  in  the  battle. 

The  Lamp  of  Aladdin  is  a  part  of  a  traditional  version  of  the 
story  of  "Aladdin,  or  the  Wonderful  Lamp."  The  tale  of 
Aladdin  is  one  of  the  most  famous  of  an  Oriental  collection 
called  "  Arabia:?!  Nights'  Entertainments."  The  adventures  of 
Aladdin  after  he  grew  to  be  a  young  man  are  even  more 
remarkable  than  this  tale  of  his  childhood,  and  they  all  came 
about  through  his  possession  of  the  magical  lamp. 


VOCABULARY 


a  brdpt'ly,  suddenly. 

ad  van'tage,  benefit ;  gain  ;  profit. 

ad  v6n'ture,  fortune  ;  that  wliicli  hap- 
pens. 

af  fgc'tion  (shiin)  ate,  loving ;  fond. 

Af  ri  can,  a  native  of  Africa. 

a  maze'ment,  astonishment ;  surprise. 

an'ehored,  held  by  an  anchor. 

ap'pe  tite,  desire  ;  desire  for  food  or 
drink. 

ap  poin'tgd,  named  ;  chosen ;  selected. 

ap  proach'ing,  drawing  near. 

a  rouged',  awakened  ;  excited. 

as'pect,  view  ;  look. 

as  sis'tgd,  helped  ;  aided. 

a  void'ed,  shunned  ;  kept  away  from. 

awk'ward,  clumsy ;  ungraceful. 

ba'con,  salted  and  dried  pork, 

bar' re  n,  not  fertile  ;  sterile. 

bea'ver,  a  small  animal  that  lives  near 
rivers  and  lakes. 

be  hav'ior,  manners  ;  deportment. 

brakes,  large  ferns. 

break'erg,  waves  broken  into  foam. 

brgth'ren,  brothers. 

brogue,  dialect ;  manner  of  pronuncia- 
tion. 

bruised  (broosd),  injured. 

bur'rowg,  holes  in  ground  dug  by  ani- 
mals. 


caravan,  a  large  covered  wagon  for      dain'tle§,  delicacies;  something  deli- 
travel,  cious. 


car'nl  val,  a  feast ;  a  revelry. 

car'ol,  a  song.         * 

Car  ra'ra,  a  town  in  Italy,  famous  for 

marble  quarries. 
cav'ern,  a  cave  ;  a  den. 
chaii'tl  cleer,  a  cock. 
Chesh'Ire,  a  county  in  England. 
^in'derg,  embers  ;  ashes  ;  unconsumed 

coal. 
otv'n,  courteous ;  polite. 
coax'ing,  persuading. 
co'coa  nut,  a  nut  of  the  cocoa  tree. 
com'for  (fer)  ter,    a  knitted  woollen 

scarf. 
com  pan'ioD,  a  comrade  ;  a  mate. 
con  clud'  (clod)  6d,  decided  ;  judged. 
con  fnged',  disordered  ;  perplexed. 
con  sid'ered,     pondered ;     reflected ; 

thought. 
con  ten'ted,  satisfied. 
con  ver  sa'tion  (shon) ,  familiar  talk. 
cSrk'screw   (scro),   a    tool    used   in 

drawing  corks. 
cow'ard,  one  who  lacks  courage. 
ere  at'ing,  producing ;  making. 
crip'ple,  one  who  is  lame  or  deformed. 
crouch'Ing,  bending ;  stooping. 
crfitch,  a  staff  ;  a  support  in  walkinp;. 
cup  board  (ciib'erd) ,  a  closet  for  dishes. 
cu  rl  os'I  t^,  inquisitiveness. 
ciish'ion  (un),  a  pillow. 


236 


^  237  8«- 


dgaf'-mute,  one  who  is  deaf  and  dumb. 
de  cis'iou    (sizhon),    determination; 

resolution. 
del'I  cate,  dainty  ;  charming. 
de  par'ture,   act    of   leaving ;     going 

away. 
de  scgnd'ed,  went  down  ;  fell. 
de  gerved,  merited  ;  entitled  to. 
des  pair,  lack  of  hope. 
di'a  monds,  precious  stones. 
di  rec'tgd,  told  ;  instructed. 
dis  Sp  poin'ted,  baffled  ;  frustrated. 
dis  con  ten'ted,  dissatisfied ;  unquiet. 
dig'mal,  gloomy ;  cheerless. 
dis  poged',  inclined ;  minded. 
dig  solved',  melted. 
dis  turbed'  (terbd),  troubled;  agitated. 
dOr'mouse,  a  small  animal  living  in 

Europe  and  Asia. 
doubt'fiil,  uncertain  ;  vague. 
doz'ing,  sleeping. 
drag'on-fly,  a  four-winged  insect. 
drear 'y,  gloomy  ;  dismal. 
drought,  dryness  ;  lack  of  rain. 
dQiub,  mute ;  silent. 

Eg^p'tian  (slmn),  a  native  of  Egypt. 

em  broi'dered,  decorated  with  needle- 
work. 

em'erald,  a  precious  stone,  green  in 
color. 

gn  graved',  carved. 

e  ndr'moiis,  very  large  ;  huge. 

er'inine,  a  valuable  white  fur. 

es  c6r'ted,  guided  ;  accompanied. 

ex  am  i  na'tion  (shun),  trial ;  test. 

6x  ceed'ing  ly,  extremely  ;  greatly  ; 
very  much. 

gx  cite'ment,  agitation  ;  commotion. 

6xpla na'tion  (shun),  description; 
account. 


6x  plore',  search  ;  discover. 
6x  traOr'di  na  ry,  uncommon. 

feign' ing  (fan),  pretending;  invent- 
ing. 

fid'dle-sticks,  sticks  used  in  playing 
a  fiddle. 

fieroe'ly,  violently  ;  furiously. 

fla'vor,  taste ;  relish. 

flgcks,  spots ;  specks. 

floun'dered,  tumbled  about. 

foe'man,  an  enemy. 

f6r  lOrn',  lost ;  deserted  ;  forsaken. 

f6r  ward,  in  advance. 

franc,  a  French  coin  worth  about 
nineteen  cents. 

fur'lOng  (fer),  a  distance  of  forty 
rods. 

gen'er  oils,  liberal ;  abundant. 

ge'nie,an  imaginary  being. 

ge  og'ra  phy-,  the  science  of  the  earth's 
surface. 

gi'ant,  an  imaginary  being  of  enor- 
mous size. 

gla'cier  (shier),  a  river  of  ice. 

gleam'  ing,  beaming  ;  flashing. 

glit'ter  ing,  sparkling  ;  glistening. 

gloam'ing,  twilight ;  dusk. 

gnat,  a  small  two-winged  fly. 

gold'smith,  an  artisan  in  gold. 

grad'u  al,  moderate  ;  slow. 

gran'deur,  magnificence ;  splendor. 

grav'i  ty,  seriousness. 

griev'ing,  mourning ;  lamenting. 

griif'fly,  sternly,  harshly. 

grum'bled,  complained ;  scolded. 

har'nes  sing,  putting  on  a  harness. 
hearth,  part  of  floor  just  before  fire. 
her'ring,  a  salt-water  fish. 
hil'loek,  a  small  hill. 


"^  23o  8*^ 


hSb,  a  shelf  in  a  fireplace. 

hol'ly^,  a  small  evergreen  tree  having 

red  berries. 
hon'gs  ty,  sincerity  ;  truth. 

ioe'bepg,  a  floating  mass  of  ice. 

i'^I  clCy  a  pendant  mass  of  ice  tapering 
to  a  point. 

Ig'no  rau^e,  want  of  knowledge. 

Im  Sg'I  na  ble,  conceivable. 

Im  fig  I  na'tion  (shun) ,  fancy. 

Impa'tient  (shent),  uneasy. 

fm  pres  sion  (presh'un) ,  notion  ;  be- 
lief. 

In  dig'nant  ly,  angrily. 

In'ju  ry  (jo),  harm  ;  hurt. 

In  quire',  search  ;  ask  ;  question. 

In  sist',  assert ;  urge. 

in'stant  ly,  immediately  ;  at  once. 

In  tgn'ding,  designing  ;  proposing. 

In  ter  rfipt',  break  off ;  hinder ;  dis- 
turb. 

issued  (ish'od),  came  forth;  flowed 
out. 

jfig'fi  ar,  a  carnivorous  animal. 

knowl'edge,  that  which  is  known ; 

learning. 
kniic  kle,  a  joint. 

la  bur'num  (ber),  a  small  tree. 

laun'dress,  a  washerwoman. 

Igop'ard,  the  largest  spotted  cat  of  the 
old  World. 

lln'dgn,  a  tree. 

loach,  a  small  European  fish. 

lo'cQst,  an  insect,  often  called  a  grass- 
hopper. 

l&x'u  ry,  extravagance ;  a  dainty, 

mfig'I  cal,  supernatural. 


mfi  gl'cian  (shun), one  skilled  in  magic. 
man'fi  ger,  one  who  directs  or  controls. 
meas'nrlng  (mezh'),  ascertaining  the 

length. 
mSn'tioned       (shijnd),       indicated; 

named. 
mil'i  ta  ry,  belonging  to  a  soldier. 
mis  fSr'tune,  adversity  ;  mishap. 
mis'sion  (mish'on),  errand. 
mon'strotis,  huge  ;  very  large. 
mourn'fiil,  sad ;  sorrowful. 
mill'bgr  ry,  a  bush  bearing  red  berries. 
mfish'room,  a  toadstool. 
mastach'gs  (tash),  a  beard  worn  on 

the  upper  lip. 
mtit'tered,  murmured;  grumbled. 
myrrh  (mer),  incense. 

niche,  a  nook ;  a  corner. 

ob  gerve',  see  ;  perceive  ;  remark. 
oc'cu  pied,  took  up  ;  employed. 
op  por  tfin'I  ty,  occasion. 
ot'ter,  a  small  fur-bearing  animal. 

pfil'a^e,  the  abode  of  kings. 

Par'a  disc,  the  garden  of  Eden. 

pfir'a  pgt,  a  wall ;  a  breastwork. 

par  tic'u  lar  ly,  especially. 

pas'ture,  field  where  cattle  graze. 

pgd'dler,  a  vender  ;  a  hawker. 

pgn^e,  plural  of  penny. 

per  sis'tgd,  continued  ;  persevered. 

per'son  al,  pertaining  to  a  person. 

plfit'fOrm,  a  raised  frame  or  structure. 

plight,  peril ;  danger. 

posi'tion  (zish'un),  place. 

pound,  English  money. 

prai'rie,  level  grassy  land. 

pre  ten'ded,  asserted  ;  made  believe. 

prOnged,  pointed. 

pro  po'§al,  a  design  ;  a  proposition. 


"^    ^Ov7    »**■ 


prSs'per  oils,  successful ;  thriving. 
pro  tgc'tion  (shun),  shelter ;  defence. 
pro  vis'ions  (vizh'ung),  food, 
pru'd6n^,e  (pro),  thoughtfulness. 
ptiz'zled,  bewildered ;  perplexed. 

quar'rel  some,  easily  provoked. 
queer,  odd ;  strange. 
quiv'ering,  trembling;  wavering. 

rSm'blmg,  wandering ;  roaming. 

rfip'ture,  delight ;  gladness. 

ra'ven,  a  bird  like  the  crow. 

re  buked',  reproved  ;  chid. 

re  gch'oed,  echoed  back. 

rgg'u  lar  ly,  steadily. 

rein'deer  (ran),  a  deer  having  horns. 

re  leas'ing,  freeing,  liberating. 

rgl'ic,  remainder ;  souvenir. 

re  mar'ka  ble,  unusual ;  extraordi- 
nary. 

re  marked  (markt') ,  said,  com- 
mented. 

re  proach',  blame  ;  upbraid. 

r6§'I  dent,  one  who  dwells  in  a  place. 

re  §61ved',  decided,  determined. 

rid'dleg,  a  puzzle. 

ridge,  an  elevation. 

ri  dlc'ulotls,  absurd. 

rude'ness  (rod),  impoliteness,  dis- 
courtesy. 

s^lm'on,  both  a  salt  and  fresh  water 

fish. 
sau^e'pSn,  a  small  pan. 
sen  sa'tion  (shun),  feeling  ;  emotion. 
se'ri  oils,  solemn  ;  in  earnest. 
ser'vi^e,  assistance  ;  duty  done. 
sheaveg,  bundles. 
shel'ter,  covering ;  protection. 
shil'ling,  an  English  silver  coin  worth 

about  24  cents. 


shrlv'elled,  shrunk ;  drawn  into 
wrinkles. 

shtid'dered,  shook,  quivered. 

skew'er  (sku'),  a  pin  of  iron  or  wood 
for  fastening  meat. 

sky'lark,  a  European  lark. 

sky'light,  a  window  in  the  roof. 

sliim'ber,  sleep. 

smoth'ered,  stifled. 

snatched,  seized ;  caught. 

snow-bQn'ting,  a  snow-bird. 

som'er  sd.ult,  turning  head  over  heels. 

sou,  a  French  coin  worth  about  one 
cent. 

spgc'kled,  spotted. 

spgc'ta  cleg,  a  pair  of  lenses  set  in  a 
frame  adjusted  to  the  eyes. 

spied,  searched  ;  caught  sight  of. 

spurned  (spernd),  kicked  against; 
struck. 

stead'I  ly,  unmoved ;  without  inter- 
mission. 

stran'ger,  one  who  comes  from  an- 
other place  ;  unknown. 

strained,  exerted  ;  forced. 

strife,  quarrel ;  conflict. 

sfig  ges'tgd,  hinted  ;  advised. 

stiin'moned,  called ;  notified. 

su  pe'rJ  or,  greater  than ;  excelling. 

taunt,  reproach. 
ter'ri  er,  a  small  dog. 
thatched  (thScht) ,  covered  with  straw. 
there'fSre  (thar'),  for  that  reason. 
thim'ble,  an  implement  used  in  sewing. 
thou'gandth,  one  of  a  thousand. 
thread'bare,  worn ;  shabby. 
thfin'der-stSrm,  a  storm  with  thunder 

and  lightning. 
tor'rent,  a  rushing  stream. 
trSv'el  Icr,  one  who  journeys. 


■^  240  8«- 


trea'cle,  molasses. 

tre  mgn'dofis,  overwhelming. 

turn'spit  (tern'),  one  who  turns  a  spit. 

twilight,  between  daylight  and  dark. 

twin'kle,  wink  ;  blink. 

twist'ing,  twining ;  winding. 

tim  brgl'la,  a  shelter  from  rain  or  sun. 
fin  com'for  ta  ble  (fer),  not  comfort- 
able. 
fin  Ifick'I  ly,  unfortunately. 

v&n'Ished,  disappeared;    became  in- 
visible. 
vgn'tfired,  risked ;  chanced. 


vis'lon  (vizh'on),  sight;  apparition. 

waist'coat,  an  inner  coat, 
w^r^den,  a  watchman  ;  a  guardian. 
war'rior  (ler) ,  a  soldier. 
wea'gel,  a  small  animal. 
wheel'bSr  row,   a  barrow  with  one 

wheel. 
wig'wam,  an  Indian  tent. 
wll'der  n^ss,  a  desert. 
won'dered,  marvelled  ;  surprised. 
wrin'kled,  marked  with  wrinkles. 


yaw'nlng,    gaping ; 
breath. 


taking   a   deep 


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